Paper Lanterns
by IceShadow
Summary: Historical Brothel Fiction. AU. Yaoi. Summary and Pairings inside.
1. Default Chapter

Paper Lanterns

Author: IceShadow/SadisticSaint/Shade (whatever you know me as)

Disclaimer: I don't own them...nope, definitely don't own them.

Summary: This is a historical fiction based on ancient brothels. They are taken completely out of their universe and are different ages. AU. So if you don't like that kind of thing, this isn't the fiction for you. The main focus will be on Yukimura, but I will be moving back and forth between pairings and giving each their deserved time. Also, this is very much Yaoi and will become more so as the chapters develop. This is a brothel people, of course they are going to have sex.

Pairings: SanaYuki, YanaKiri, KuwaKiri, InuKai, MomoKai, Oshitari/Gakuto, KamIbu, Tachibana/Kamio/Shinji, Tachibana/Kamio, Tachibana/Shinji, Niou/Yagyuu, TezuFuji, TakaFuji, AkutsuDan (Now these are either coming, implied or already in the fic. So give it some time and they will show. I'm a very busy woman.)

_Have a good read._

OooooO

The smell of incense was thick and heavy in the air. The scent was lavender tonight, rich and flowery, floating in wistful clouds along the candlelit hallway. Yukimura looked up from his journal, his calligraphy brush pausing as he glanced towards a shadow that was making it's way down the hallway. The rice paper that covered the walls let the residents of the rooms know who was coming, the lights from the hall leaving shadows play along the opaque off white paper. By the shape it was more than likely one of the attendants, hurrying about to get the courtesans ready for the night. It stopped in front of his door, kneeling and sliding it open.

"Here's some hot water and new kohl stick, desu," the small boy, dressed in a green headband and dark blue yukata, smiled amiably.

"Thank you, Dan," a gentle smile passed over Yukimura's lips as he set down the ink brush and stood. The heavy over-kimono fell in thick folds along the ground, dragging in a train behind the slight man. He knelt down with skilled grace and gathered the items from the young attendant who rushed off with arms full to the next doorway.

Not bothering to close his door, as most of them didn't when the brothel was operating, Yukimura glanced across the hall and into the equally open doorway. Muscled shoulders stood out in a perfect line as the occupant of the other room began to pull on the many layers of kimono that he dressed in every night. Kaoru dressed himself more than anyone else in the brothel, he also kept to himself, unlike most of them who enjoyed speaking with each other to forget the loneliness of this place. Yukimura took in the huge tattoo that sprawled across the other mans shoulders and back, slithering along his sinewy muscles and disappearing into hidden places. A huge snake representing the Shinto God Susa-no-wo (1) that Kaidoh Kaoru hid under the many layers of kimono and wraps that covered his arms.

The man remained an enigma, no one really knew the reasons he was there. What circumstances he was brought underneath the roof of the Pink Kappa (2) Brothel were hidden behind silk and sandalwood.

Yukimura sighed softly and cradled the bowl of water in his arms, walking carefully back to his stool to set the container down and kneel in front of it. He dipped a cotton cloth into the water and began washing his face with gentle movements, cleansing away the sleep of day. Night was beginning to fall, the fireflies danced along the dark streets and those who wished to be entertained were walking out into the night for their pleasures.

Night manager, Fuji Syusuke quietly ushered his consort Tezuka Kunimitsu to bed. Relieving the owner of his daytime duties to take over for the night shift, he kissed his 'husband' on the cheek gently before finishing his makeup and hurrying off to the front desk. The delicate, pretty and untouchable night manager began to place the wooden tags of the graveyard shift workers onto their pegs. Each carefully wood-burned tag would be removed from the peg when they were busy, hidden behind the counter until the customer was finished and then replaced when their caller left. The regular customers wouldn't begin to stream in until the night enveloped the sky like a blanket of black velvet and the sake had begun to pour like water at the teahouses that surrounded the water trade(3) buildings of the town.

Yukimura looked up as he heard someone walking past his door, setting down the cloth on the lip of the bowl. Kamio Akira, from the room next to his, went padding past in nothing but an under-kimono that was tied gracelessly around his waist. The pale boy skidded to a halt before passing Yukimura's door and turned, his shock of red hair hiding his missing eye, leaving the other displayed, seductively lined with kohl and heavy shadow. He wore a discreet eye patch over the other, covering the hole that was left after an accident in a gambling streak before he had come to the brothel.

"Do you have an extra comb, Seiichi?" Akira smiled, eye crinkling slightly. Yukimura couldn't help but smile back, the boy was an absolute angel most of the time, though he did have an explosive temper if someone was unjust to his roommate.

"Of course," Yukimura stood, pausing to cough quietly into his sleeve, before walking over to his small vanity. He pulled a drawer open and sifted through his hairpieces before finding a small ivory comb. "This should do."

Akira walked across the room, blatantly not caring if he looked graceless and masculine. He was never one to pretend too much, never falling too far that he viewed himself as more female then male. His unique red hair and pale skin drew people to him like moths to a flame and those who got to close were burned with his energy. Akira had a love for life and a sense of self even in a place that was meant to break spirits and condemn souls.

His roommate was another matter all together though.

"How is Shinji?" Yukimura closed the gap between himself and the other, handing him the comb.

"He's awake at least. I'm just getting him dressed now actually. I'll make sure to bring it back, we've seemed to have misplaced our combs today," Kamio kissed the taller on the cheek and strode from the room and back from whence he came.

Yukimura sighed, coughing again into his sleeve, he glanced back over at Kaoru's room and was about to call over a greeting when a crash from down the hall startled him. The shriek that followed could be no other then Kirihara Akaya.

"This is NOT the right kimono! You better find Yanagi-san's favorite one NOW or I swear I'll have your head!!!!"

With that, Dan went running down the hall in distress, probably to find Fuji-san to fix the little mishap. Yukimura was tempted to close his door but thought better of it and leaned his head out instead, fixing his hair. Fingers deftly coiled the shoulder length silvery blue strands into a bun and secured them with a pin, all the while he watched the hallway.

Kirihara, the holy terror, walked out of his room, transparent under kimono barely held closed in the front. He could easily be mistaken for the demons he feared, wild black curls fell around his head like a halo; his wide green eyes were razor sharp and absinthe bright. The candlelight played along the skin of his arm when the silk slipped away as he brushed his hair from his face. The ever-changing light reflected off lines of raised white flesh that criss-crossed like a deranged snowflake along his arms, concentrating on his wrists. Some of the scars were fairly new, raw and pink in color.

They all had their demons, but Akaya's were real...at least in his mind. They manifested themselves in the night and haunted him during the day. Sent away from his home because of his delusions; his parents left him in the street and he ended up here.

Those sharp green eyes met Yukimura's dark ones and Kirihara scowled, turning to go back into his room. There was more banging around but he was sure that most of it would be contained in the room...unless of course Gakuto decided to get involved and then it would become a small living nightmare.

Speaking of the little porcelain devil, Muhaki Gakuto's petite hand pushed his door open. No one looked more like a living doll then Gakuto, his skin was sickly pale and hair a deep maroon that was cut to frame his face, bleeding away any color he had. His lips were painted in classic courtesan style and he just recently stopped blackening his teeth because the trend was growing old. Such classic beauty, such overdressed elegance. Gakuto had gotten his hands on one of the richest caller's that came to the Pink Kappa. Painted nails had dug into the skin and kept him far away from anyone else's favor.

Not that Yukimura minded, he had his own favorite caller and was perfectly happy with him.

Sighing, he frowned and turned to go back into his room. He was getting far too distracted this morning and he hadn't even finished his makeup. Clearing his throat quietly he went to kneel back down in front of his vanity, setting out his meager makeup. His caller didn't like him to wear very much, said that it distracted from his natural beauty. Yukimura far from agreed with the sentiment but it was not his place to tell the customer he was wrong.

"Seiichi-chan?" a soft voice drifted in from the hallway.

Yukimura turned his head, recognizing the voice immediately as Fuji-sans. "Yes?"

"If you could help Akaya for me I would greatly appreciate it. He doesn't seem to want Dan anywhere near him and you know how he gets," Fuji's pleasant smile and gentle demeanor was part of the reason this place was so comfortable. Yukimura was thankful he had ended up in the Pink Kappa and nowhere else, misery was something he didn't need compounded onto his already difficult life.

"Of course," Yukimura nodded and finished the light dusting of powder over his skin and added some rouge to turn the pallor into life. He stood and moved out of the room, the heavy silks dragging behind him, grating softly along the tatami mats. He moved down the hallway and past open doors, all the rooms decorated in the taste of the one who lived within it.

"Yuki! You are looking good today."

Yukimura turned to look into the littered room of Niou. There were papers, clothing, Noh theatre masks and makeup containers scatter all over the place. The pale haired boy stood, legs impossibly long in his barely there outfit. He wore a modified yukata rather then kimono, it was painfully short and sometimes left nothing to the imagination if you happened to be standing at a particular angle. Lengths of expensive silk wrapped around his tiny waist and hung off his arms. Always a trendsetter but never a trend, Niou was all about shocking dress and even more shocking conversation. He could make even the most seasoned brothel goer blush from his words. Which is probably why he attracted the attention of a famous Kabuki actor from Edo.

He walked over on towering clogs, usually only used by Geisha, that he had received as a gift from his main caller. Dragonflies carved along the side and inlaid with precious stones and lacquered for a gorgeous shine that made them seem gilded with gold. He leaned down to offer a kiss to Yukimura's cheek, eyes sparkling with mischief as they always did.

"So, is the great samurai coming tonight?" Niou stood back up, already tall, the shoes made him almost ridiculously so. All limbs, the pale haired whore was intimidating but once you got past looks and first impressions Niou could be somewhat sweet if not a bit too nosy.

"You know I am never sure, Masaharu. He comes when he wishes," Yukimura smiled, nodding his head and continued down the hallway, leaving Niou with no more questions to ask.

The paper lanterns in the hall had all been lit, the lanterns were painted with the characters for their names in black so that it was easy to recognize which door you were to go in. Though most of the men who entered these halls knew them by heart. Pausing to cough into his sleeve, clearing his throat as discreetly as possible, he looked up at the lantern in front of Akaya's door. This one was the only red lantern in the hallway, an auspicious color with a charm to ward away demons dangling from it.

Yukimura slipped into Kirihara's room, shutting the door quickly before Gakuto had a chance to start sniping biting remarks at the other. The wild haired man turned sharply, the kohl stick in his hand snapping, eyes blazing as he opened his mouth the shout at the intruder. It closed with a click of sharp teeth as he noticed it was Yukimura and not Dan, eyes opening from their angry slits.

"What are you doing here...?" his voice turned timid, eyes darkening slightly.

"Just going to help you get dressed for Yanagi-sensei," Yukimura smiled gently and moved over to run soothing hands down the tensed shoulders. They trembled slightly underneath those gentle hands, so tight the muscles quivered.

"Let me help you with your makeup, Akaya...." He removed the shattered kohl stick from the other man's hand, the black marking the pale, scarred skin with smudges. The scars disfigured the once perfect white skin, raked along thin arms and shoulders. The almost transparent under-kimono did little to hide his thin body. The only other thing he wore was a number of Buddhist mala around his neck and demon warding charms around his ankles that clicked together musically when he walked.

Yukimura could see that Kirihara was more stressed then usual tonight, his hands were shaking and there were crescent marks in his flesh where his fingernails had dug into his own skin. He coaxed the other man to kneel and started fixing the too dark lines that Akaya had started along his eyes. He smudged and toned them with delicate, practiced fingers, making that gorgeous, unique green stand out.

Dan poked in to deposit the correct kimono and then disappeared without another word. Yukimura rose and gathered the gold and brown folds in his arms before returning to the still shaking black haired man. He manipulated the other's arms, sliding the dark gold under kimono on and then the expresso brown, heavy over-kimono over that one. The maple leaf pattern of yellows, oranges and reds, floated down the front and gathered in a small pile at the bottom, intricate autumn colors that glittered in the candlelight. The obi was simple gold with no design and was secured in the front for easier removal, the material draping in an oversized bow at the belly.

Yukimura adjusted a few strands of the other mans hair before stepping back. "You look lovely, Akaya.."

Just as he was finishing cleaning the broken pieces of kohl from the ground there was a tap on the wooden frame of the door. He looked up, hands cradling the delicate black stick and immediately bowed.

"Good evening, Yanagi-sensei..." his hair brushed his face as he bent at the waist, honoring the guest. He had not realized how late it had gotten; the customers were beginning to arrive.

Gentle fingers brushed through his bangs, that were left unpinned by the hair sticks and then moved to his chin, coaxing him to look up.

"Good evening to you as well, Yuki," Yanagi Renji smiled genuinely, eyes half closed as always. His hand was warm and kind on Yukimura's cheek, tracing an invisible pattern before letting it drop to his side.

Kirihara stood, like a rabbit waiting for the arrow to pierce it's heart. The tenseness crept back into his tiny form, his fingers gripping his palms until blood began to flow. He bowed quickly, curling his arms around himself and leaving his head facing down, staring into the tatami on the floor.

Renji walked over, his simple full-length cotton yukata was dark brown with gold embroidery, a subdued match to Akaya's. Those gentle, masculine hands slipped around the courtesan's waist and pulled him against him, holding the shaking form in his arms. Akaya's arms reached up to grip the other man's neck, holding on with bloody palms. Yukimura stepped out into the hallway and closed the door, quietly leaving Yanagi to calm the other.

OoooO

Historical notes:

(1) The serpent God _Susa-no-Wo_ is a very important deity because he is the one who insulted Amaterasu (most important Japanese goddess of the sun, who is worshipped at the famous Ise Shrine) and made her hide away. It is the most significant tale in Japanese Shinto Religion. After she reemerged after coaxing, Susa-no-wo was banished to the outer islands and became non-persona. This tattoo is representation of Kaidoh's banishing to the brothel.

(2)_Pink Kappa_: Pink, in Japanese society, is an acronym for female genitals but it also can stand for just about anything overtly sexual. Kappa is a water demon who likes to eat cucumbers and we can all guess what cucumber can be viewed as. It seemed an appropriate title for a brothel to me. Good enough.

(3)The _water trade_ is basically a fancy name for prostitution or other sexual businesses.

_If you have any questions about something that is in the fic just leave a note in your review and I will clarify in the section starting the new chapter._

**heart To all the Reviewers!**


	2. Giving Up Inside Like Me

**Giving Up Inside Like Me **(chapter two of Paper Lanterns)

**Warnings!!: **Okay...this is a sex scene. It is a little violent, a little twisted and a little not for immature minds or eyes. I am writing for a very disturbed individual so keep that in mind as well. Most of the scenes will not be so psychologically charged so don't take this as the end all to all my sex scenes. Hopefully there will be a huge variety because of the variety of the personalities I'm representing.

Pairing: YanaKiri

(...begin plug....and if you want to really get the feel of it. Go find a Download of VNV Nations Carbon and End of Days. Both those songs were what I was listening to when I wrote it. Besides, everyone should listen to VNV, they are amazing....end of plug...)

Questions:

_**Shiva Darkwater**:_ Yes, the perspective will change back and forth so you'll get a little taste of everyone. My stabilizing view will be Yukimura though.

_**Ai Ling**:_ First off thank you for your faithful reviews, I always look forward to seeing your name on my list. And I might have made a mistake at the beginning, but the men upstairs work only at night and during the day there are a few other workers downstairs that aren't connected with the universe. They have a front of a silk shop during the day as well. Which I'm sure I'll put into play later. It's a cover for the actual goings on at night and also lets them make extra money.

Have a good read, as always.

OooooO

Akaya seemed unreasonably upset tonight, Renji noted as he let his fingers stroke through the black curls that crowned the slighter man's head. He walked backwards slowly until he found the meager futon that his consort slept on and proceeded to maneuver the other to sit with him, curling that thin body in his lap.

"Did you sleep well, Akaya?" that calm, soothing voice spoke in low tones that were meant only for the man in his arms.

"No..." his voice shook, bloody hand clinging to the professors sleeve. "They came again...the charms aren't working..."

"Hm....let us try this one then," Yanagi slid a small package from his pocket, unfolding the crinkly parchment with care. He held the piece out for Akaya to take. The fingers in his yukata slowly released and reached to remove the small bit of jade from the paper. The piece was hanging from red corded string, there was a small jade pagoda as the main piece and three other pieces dangled from the bottom of it that were carved in the shape of leaves.

"So pretty..." Akaya marveled at the charm, fingering the cool stone.

"I had it blessed at the Shrine this morning. May I put it in your hair?" Renji let his fingers trace patterns along Akaya's skin, much like he did when he touched Yukimura. Though with this one he could simply follow the scars that moved about his entire body as a testament to his battle against the demons that lived within him.

Deft fingers braided the tiny charm into Akaya's tangle of hair; it fell just below the black sea of curls, shining green in the candlelight. The courtesan reached up to touch the cold stone, fingertips bouncing it into motion, swinging left to right. Absinthe green eyes stared up into Renji's, eyes that saw beyond him and into him, such depth that not even the Professor could understand. There was no understanding to what drew him here, night after night, to look at this boy. To touch him more intimately then he bothered with anyone else. Sometimes he spent hours just studying the notes he took on Kirihara, going over them constantly, trying to find something that would take away the demons. There was no reasoning to this illness, if it was one at all. How do you kill something intangible, how do you eradicate the unreal?

He sighed audibly, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose. Kirihara left his arms, moving about the room and cleaning things, Renji had witnessed this before. The room had to be put together properly before anything could be done in it. A quirk of Akaya's...one of his many.

Renji watched the other as he knelt and washed the blood off his hands, looking at it curiously as if he wasn't sure how it had gotten there. He dismissed it after a minute before standing and going back over to the Professor and kneeling down. Akaya always had very little ceremony in his actions, but they were almost ritual if one observed long enough. Renji had begun to be able to judge each action by what the other would do, a little twitch of his hand, a movement of his kimono. Everything had a prequel or a pattern, but there were times when Akaya was so spontaneous it erased every note he had gathered and forced him to start over. It would be frustrating if not so fascinating.

Long, pale fingers reached up and pulled at the belt around Renji's waist, the long bit of material holding his kimono closed. The action knocked the Professor from his reverie, drawing all his focus to the one in front of him. After gathering the other's attention, Akaya wrapped the length of cotton around his neck, knotting it like a noose and pulling it taught.

This was new...Renji noted, leaning back against the wooden frame on the wall, watching. Always watching and only touching when it was the right time.

Kirihara knelt, his legs slightly splayed, and began to slip the silk away from his shoulders. It made a soft hissing noise as it scrapped across the skin, sliding like water down masculine shoulders, revealing sharp collarbone in its wake. Fingers etched along his flesh, peeling away the heavy material in a fold, leaving his upper torso bared. His body shuddered, eyes closing as if to block something out, whether it be the light or the darkness, Renji was not privy to the other's mind no matter how much he wished to be. The obi was unwound with fluid movements, the brown and gold silk parted to reveal creamy skin, marred with crooked white lines. One hand crept along an inner thigh so scarred you could barely see the original flesh, white and pink slashed lines twisting the skin into something almost unrecognizable.

Lips parted as a hand slid up over the meager stomach and then back down to desire swollen with his delusion and the other hand went to the belt tied around his neck and pulled. Pulled until his adam's apple was trapped and his skin pinched, bruising around the edges cutting off the life giving oxygen and intensifying the feelings.

Drowning....deliciously drowning and pulling away from the real. His hand worked himself, the feeling of death and ecstasy peaking, pulling, dragging him down. The noose pulled tighter, cutting off his air all together, the lights darkened around him and his eyes flew open...and for one moment he saw the pure white light of heaven.

For one moment he was saved.

Renji acted at this point, moving forward to loosen the noose with one quick gesture of his fingers, pulling the knot away and letting the material fall. Kirihara gasped, his pupils slipping back down from their dilated desire. He blinked repeatedly and Renji was the first thing he saw, those gilded brown eyes open and looking down at him. Reaching up to touch his face, he stopped and held his hand out in front of him, the pearlecent remains of his release were left on his fingers. Green eyes stared at it with interest, then brought the digits to his lips, sucking off the remains while staring into Renji's eyes, seeing through him rather then seeing him.

"Not yet Akaya...you aren't leaving me yet..." Renji whispered almost imperceptibly, his lips pressing into the other's cheek. Those lips opened slightly, breathing warmth onto the other's skin, sending a chill down the courtesan's spine. Akaya tilted his head slightly, eyelashes brushing in butterfly kisses across Renji's jaw before his own lips hovered above the Professor's, trembling breath rushing across the sensitive flesh.

The kiss was all consuming, sucking them both into a void where only they existed. A plane of reality where only two were welcome, far from Akaya's demons and Renji's students.

Akaya parted his lover's kimono, straddling the waiting lap in one smooth movement. The courtesan's hands picked up the vial of oil that was always set near the bed, his eyes had dilated again, black consuming the green and leaving nothing but a thin line of light in all that darkness.

"Touch me..." whispered words from painted lips that shook with his need, pressing the vial into the other man's hand. Akaya knelt up, giving access to his physical secrets, giving himself to Renji as he did almost every night of his existence. Locked in a paper cage, so delicate and unreal, but inescapable...and then he was drowning again.

And the touch brought him back, fingers drenched in sweet smelling oil, sliding deep into him. He needed more, his body pushing down into the touch, begging to be caressed. Two pushed in next, filling him even more but Renji was always too slow, leaving him writhing and begging before putting in the third. Driving Akaya even more mad with his slow touch and his whispered words that overpowered every voice that echoed in the whorls of his brain.

The first bite was on his shoulder, sharp little teeth digging into his skin, the second his upper arm. Drawing blood that time. Yanagi had them all over his arms, shoulders and chest. Little bruises from Kirihara's love bites, all in different stages of recovery. He had memorized the pattern of his teeth, drawn it in one of his notebooks in intricate detail so he could study it later.

Four fingers in, stretched to capacity and Akaya took it all. Driving down on them, teeth sinking into collarbone, sharp and unforgiving. Those teeth released his flesh for a moment and came dangerously close to the side of his face. Choking the moan back, swallowing down, throat convulsing, Kirihara found words again, his body moving against the fingers still pushed deep inside of him.

"Inside me, Renji..." the voice shook, with passion or fear or both. The Professor never knew...he could never fully grasp the emotion so he let it go, fell deep into the heat of the moment and stopped trying to analyze.

The fingers slipped out, leaving the passage well oiled and prepared. Kirihara shook with the loss, head shaking, curls becoming wilder by the moment. More oil spilled onto a masculine palm, slicking his own heat heavily. Akaya took the initiative, hand snaking between them to grasp, guiding until it was where he wanted it.

Renji gasped, eyes closed fully as tight, slickness closed around him, sinking so deep inside the warmth offered to him. The teeth bit down again, soft moans escaping into sweating skin.

Movement started and the world spun down and all he could see were the backs of his eyelids, that profound darkness. He let himself feel every movement as Akaya rode him, wild and hard. Freeing himself and his passion, Renji's arms fell to his sides, fingers tangling in the sheets, knuckles cracking. Head fell back against the wood frame of the wall and he forced his eyes open, he needed to see him.

Akaya had the control, Renji gave it to him with open arms. The beauty on top of him stretched and writhed, soft noises falling from his open mouth. All was compressing in, crushing the Professor beneath the need and feeling, falling so fast and hard. Addicted. His eyes were all for Akaya, twitching all over the other body, not wanting to miss a single muscle contraction.

The courtesan's head was thrown back, mouth parted but no noise was emitted besides the harsh breathing. The mala around Akaya's neck clacked together, wooden beads banging in time with his movements that were so very far from Buddhism. It would seem like blasphemy if it didn't feel so much like nirvana. His motion was becoming frantic, hands reaching up to pull roughly on his hair, fingers white-knuckling in the black curls.

All Renji could do was watch, gold eyes locked, body helpless as the other screamed. The noise was full of emotion, love and hate, fear and longing. It shook his frame to the core and he released inside the other one, leaning forward to wrap strong arms around the lithe body, clinging as his lips fell open, gasping for air.

"Gods..." whispered like a prayer over jittering skin, tremors running through him. Sweat slipped along his sternum, skin so sensitive it almost hurt.

"There are no Gods here..." the whimpered reply. Thighs shook against Renji's side and he felt the first tears fall on his chest, joining the sweat in its decent towards his stomach.

He shifted and eyes closed again as he fell back onto the futon, curling the smaller body on top of his own. Pulling the covers over them both, he let the other cry softly, watching Akaya's hand wrap around the charm in his hair, fingering the still chilled stone. The emotions wracked Akaya to the point of pain, leaving him in tears after every session of lovemaking. The Professor still could never pinpoint why, no matter what he did there would be tears. Were they pain or pleasure? Was he unsatisfied? Did he feel dirty?

But Kirihara Akaya's mind was too much of a puzzle, one Yanagi Renji would put together one day. Sometimes during the day it consumed him, took away all focus and left him lost in his thoughts. Trying to find Kirihara was in turn was causing him to lose himself.

The Professor didn't care.

Sure, familiar hands soothed over the Akaya's back before wrapping protectively around him. He would sleep here tonight, he could be up and at his employers house in time. They had an extra kimono for him stored away for these occasions, he was much too tired to walk home. Once he left this place his mind was plagued anyways, it wasn't worth leaving.

The breathing slowed and Renji felt relief. Akaya slept so little, the noise in his mind forcing him into wakefulness and the more tired he became, the worse his delusions were. Renji was pleased, gently caressing the sleeping form on top of him, his own eyes sliding shut. He let himself fall into slumber, listening the soft breathing near his ear.

OoooO

As always if you have any questions or need for clarification, just leave a message in your review. You could also e-mail me.

_Thank you for reading._

**Heart to all the reviewers!**


	3. Jasmine Scented Hallways

This one took a bit to crank out. Papers, presentations, tests...you name I have it due sometime this week. So...there's this big debate on who gets screen time next...it's either Tez/Fuji, Taka/Fuji or Tachibana/Kam/Ibu.

Oi...so many pretty boys and not enough time. Also I should be putting up a chapter of College Daze before I crank out another one of these...though that is tentative as always. Sometimes I'm rather random....even to myself.

Lots of different things going on here, transition chapter.

Nice soft rating of PG. Kam/Ibu, Momo/Kai, hints.

_Have a good read. _

OoooO

Yukimura made his way back down the hallway, moving away from Kirihara's room and back to his own. His gentle footsteps made barely any noise on the tatami except for a soft crinkle of the fibers. Glancing into Niou's room, he confirmed that the other had no visitors and nodded as he passed.

Niou yawned, waving noncommittally, lounging on the floor and brushing out the hair of one of his many masks. The porcelain monstrosities littered the room, empty eye sockets staring into nothing, gaudy hair slithering along the floor like the tentacles of some great beast. The room gave Yukimura the chills, all those void faces, staring...

He moved quickly by, lurching into a coughing fit momentarily. He doubled over from the force of it, his lungs aching from the effort. The doctors couldn't help him; they didn't know what was wrong. This painful cough was regular now, sometimes producing blood that spattered his kimono sleeves, which then had to be soaked for days or were sometimes ruined completely. It was costing the brothel money and he feared they would send him somewhere else where standards weren't so high if it continued.

Gentle hands stroked his shoulders soothingly, "Are you okay, Yuki?"

Kamio. The feminine man looked up, straightening himself after the heaving feeling in his throat stopped. He rested a hand on Kamio's shoulder to steady himself and sighed softly.

"I'm alright, sorry to have worried you," soft voice was barely heard as he checked his sleeves for any blood, relieved to find none.

"It's alright...let me escort you to your room," Kamio smiled, sliding his arm around Yukimura supportively.

"I'll have Dan get you some tea," Kamio decided, gently guiding the other boy to his room and depositing him gently on a cushion. Yukimura settled himself onto the soft surface, folding his legs gracefully underneath the modest purple kimono, the obi a complimenting teal.

"Thank you Akira," he offered the redhead a gentle smile.

"You know I don't mind," he smiled back, his eye crinkling as always. Kamio opened his mouth to speak again but was interrupted by a loud and unmistakable voice that radiated from downstairs.

"Oi...Fujiko, lovely as always. You know where I'm heading!" the voice carried and announced the infamous Momoshiro Takeshi, a famous ink painter and woodblock artist that had recently started frequenting the Pink Kappa. He was loud and brash, unkempt but somehow charming in his own right. The one he was after was absolutely appalled by his behavior half the time, but you couldn't help but like the energetic painter...or hate him in some people's cases.

"Why does he have to be so loud!" Kamio growled, stomping out of the room, the jade bi(1) tied to the dagger he kept sheathed at his ankle clacked angrily. Yukimura could hear the redhead ranting about the artist to his roommate, whom Seiichi could just envision sitting there and staring blankly as the other man tromped around the room seething.

Yukimura sighed softly and shook his head, craning his neck to look across the hall to Kaidoh's room. The other's head snapped up at the noise from downstairs and large, exotic eyes slit slightly, obviously displeased. He finished wrapping his head in a long length of silk that he left trailing down his back. Yukimura thought it was a very creative way to decorate his head, considering it was usually worn underneath the wigs of Geisha to flatten their hair. Kaidoh had taken to wearing them as soon as he met Momoshiro, considering the man liked to mess up his hair all the time just to aggravate him.

Kaoru stood with a smooth movement, attesting to the strength he had underneath those flowing robes. He moved over to the door, placing a hand on the frame, biting his full lower lip for a moment before frowning and crossing his arms over his chest. Yukimura would have laughed if he knew how much Kaidoh disliked dealing with the abrasive man. He preferred to deal with his other main customer, an Apothecary named Inui Sadaharu who was sought after by people all over Japan for his unique tea mixtures and herbal remedies.

Yukimura waved when Kaoru turned, glancing into the room. The other man nodded in response, though dark eyes turned back to the hallway. He truly felt for Kaoru, the man had a hard time with one main caller, the addition of a second one made him even more anti-social, driving him into a shell that was impossible to crack. Seiichi tilted his head slightly, wanting to offer something to the other but knew his words would be acknowledged but ignored. Kaidoh always seemed to have this sense of pride and duty that was so admirable; Yukimura just wished he would talk to someone. Let some of it go, but there was not much hope in that happening.

The slap of sandals interrupted his thoughts as he heard them coming down the hallway. Then there was Momoshiro, leaning in his doorway, all smiles and smelling of ink. The man was disheveled, black ink covering his arms in smears and spattered his pale yellow and red kimono that was hanging off one shoulder. The belt was tied in a strange manner, leaving one leg exposed and keeping the kimono on just barely.

"Well if you aren't a magnificent sight as always. I come bearing a gift, my I enter your quarters?" he was loud, but Yukimura couldn't help but smile, the man was pure comic relief most of the time and terribly sweet.

"Of course Momoshiro-san," Yukimura stood, smoothing his kimono straight.

"Please, call me Momo-chan(2)," he pulled out a purple square of folded material and handed it to Yukimura, getting down on one knee. The courtesan blushed slightly at the innuendo in the name and shook his head, taking the cloth and unfolding it. Seiichi gasped softly, gazing at the beautifully hand painted, silk handkerchief. Delicate flows of wisteria twined and arched their way around the outside of the square of silk, the light purple complimenting the darker shade of the material while the green leaves lent a bit of brightness to the piece.

"I do not deserve such an expensive gift...I really must give you something for it," Yukimura held it against his chest and smiled at Momoshiro, knowing exactly what the man would want.

"A kiss on the cheek perhaps...though that is far more payment then I deserve," Momo smiled and tilted his head, offering his cheek to the courtesan. Yukimura kissed it lightly, going back to admiring the kerchief as Momoshiro stood. Seiichi sighed softly and looked up at him, reaching to fix a few strands of the spiky hair that were definitely defying gravity at the moment.

Momoshiro grabbed his hand and kissed it before leaving the room, flashing Yukimura one last toothy smile. He went straight across the hall to Kaidoh's room where the other man was waiting patiently.

"Oi...Kaoru, don't look so sour," he exclaimed, running his fingertips across the courtesans silk covered bicep. Kaidoh neatly stepped away from the touch and slid the door shut behind his customer with a polite click. The deep raspy growl that was Kaidoh's voice whispered something scathing and then the arguing began. It was almost ritual with those two, they had to fight for at least ten minute before anything more could get done.

Yukimura watched the movement behind the paper wall, light from inside reflecting the two individuals like a shadow puppet play until they moved deeper inside and disappeared all together. Pushing silvery blue strands from his eyes, Seiichi wandered to the hallway, looking towards the staircase with a deep longing. He missed his samurai; it had been almost a week since the he had went out on a campaign across the river. There was always a chance that he wouldn't come back, and it always ate away at Yukimura's heart when he had been gone for a long time. But he had to be patient, good things came to those who waited.

A head popped his view, surprising him out of his reverie. Kamio looked back and forth, scowl still on his lips then waved to Yukimura.

"Come over and have tea with Shinji and I," he walked completely out into the hallway, kimono still not on quite right, obi tilted in a most unfashionable manner. Offering his arm to Yukimura, the other man took it willingly, escorting the more feminine into his room.

The smell of the room was elegant, a deep jasmine that penetrated everything with its sweet scent. Inside knelt Kamio's roommate, Ibu Shinji, a dark beauty with clouded eyes and white skin. He sat delicately in the formal kneeling posture for performing a tea ceremony(3), his tools laid out in front of him on a white linen cloth that he had previously used to clean each object carefully.

Kamio offered him a bowl of water to rinse his hands with, a small ritual preformed before partaking in the treasured art form. Yukimura was honored, Shinji very rarely performed for anyone and it was such a treat to see a beautiful tradition in a place like the _Pink Kappa_.

Shinji began the ceremony with precise, practiced motions that he was completely concentrated on. He mumbled softly beneath his breath, dark eyes following his movements, picking up each tool with reverence and care. Yukimura watched, reflecting on the fact that he would never have been able to see such a thing if it weren't for Shinji's tragic past that had brought him to the brothel.

Ibu's mother had been a Geisha, and being born a boy was inauspicious in a Geisha house, so she hid Shinji's sex from the other members raising him as a girl. He had been trained thoroughly in the arts of Samisen, Tea Ceremony, dance and etiquette. One could observe all his grace in each beautiful movement of the Tea Ceremony, delicate hands moving with such practiced ease.

He had almost made it past the Maiko(4) stage of becoming a professional Geisha but an incident that destroyed his life and the aspirations of both him and his mother occurred. Yukimura reflected on the day Kamio had told him the story, trusting it to remain confidential. It seemed that Ibu had been the victim of a man that had broken into the Geisha house and attacked him, raping him as well. The mama of the house had rushed in and discovered the secret that had been kept so well, that their soon-to-be Geisha was a boy. This was like a curse to the female household, completely unheard of and intolerable. To keep her position as a Geisha, Shinji's mother was forced to send him into the water trade, abandoning him forever and never acknowledging the fact that she had a child. She did it readily, knowing that there would be no point in casting them both into the streets.

And here Shinji was, barely ever speaking unless it was a light senseless mumble that rambled on and on until it became white noise. He was truly beautiful though, all the grace of a trained professional coiled inside of him, only being released in rare instances such as this one.

Shinji stood smoothly, holding the bowl he had prepared the tea in cupped with both hands. The surface barely rippled at all, his poise and gentle rising never rippling the water. He moved over to kneel in front of Yukimura, bowing and offering the bowl to him. His eyes never met Seiichi's, always downcast and staring at the floor. Sometimes Yukimura wondered if he looked anyone in the eye and then he would remember how Ibu stared up at Kamio sometimes. He smiled and took the bowl in his hands after returning the bow.

The tea was rich, the fragrance strong, and with his eyes closed Yukimura could almost imagine himself in a beautiful garden, kneeling in a small open area, sakura petals falling around him in waves. It soothed his aching throat, coating it with the warm liquid, healing him if only for a while. After taking a few more sips he bowed and passed it to Kamio, who echoed the bow and took a long drink from the bowl.

The ritual was over after Kamio gave the sacred bowl back to Shinji, settling back down in his position and smiling at Yukimura. Seiichi smiled back, at peace for the night. He watched as Shinji cleaned and put away each tool, handling most with a brocaded piece of silk. He laid them in their old, lacquered wood case and slid it reverently into a corner, mumbling a prayer before trailing back into his usual nonsense.

Kamio stood after a moment and knelt down near Shinji, gathering the other into his arms and cuddling him. Ibu rested into the embrace, hand curling in Kamio's kimono, head resting in the crook of the other's neck. Yukimura looked at them, soft smile sliding over his lips, envious of their connection with each other. Kamio protected Shinji from the harsh environment of the brothel, taking all the customers for him, letting the other play the Samisen or perhaps dance. Shinji's job was to simply look pretty, Kamio was just the vessel for what the customer really wanted. The base needs.

There was a soft knock on the wood of the doorway, Dan was kneeling quietly, waiting to be recognized.

"Yes, Dan?" Yukimura tilted his head inquisitively.

"Fuji-san needs you to watch the desk for a few moments...if you are not busy of course," Dan looked slightly stressed, probably from Akaya's outburst this morning. The boy tried so hard to please everyone that when he made a mistake he beat himself up almost all day over it.

Yukimura stood and bowed, thanking the two other courtesans for the ceremony and left the room. Dan padded in front of him, eyes downcast, taking the creaky stairs carefully so as not to disturb anyone. The corners of Yukimura's eyes crinkled as the scent from downstairs wafted into his lungs. An unmistakable smell for an unmistakable man, Seiichi thought with a frown, stepping down into the storage area. Bolts of silk lined the walls, expensive lengths of fabric folded and draped everywhere. He moved about the room, carefully avoiding any of the precious cloth that had made its way onto the floor and stepped out into the shop, behind the counter.

The brothel posed as a silk shop during the day, giving them a legitimate trade if anything were to happen to the courtesans.

As he suspected, Akutsu Jin, the bodyguard of the place was sitting on a stool in the corner of the shop. His opium pipe held in one hand, the cloying scent of the drug floating from the bowl of the pipe, polluting the air with its musky odor. He looked up briefly when Yukimura walked in, then tawny eyes traveled lazily back to the wall, tracing the cracks slowly with large pupils.

Yukimura adjusted his hair, looking at Fuji, who was standing at the counter fussing with some silk he was trying to embroider into a summer obi. The caretaker of the brothel glanced up, biting the thread with a snap and leaving the needle inside silk before standing.

"I'll be back in a just a moment, I have to go and speak with Kunimitsu...though I just hate to disturb him at this hour..." Fuji sighed and shook his head, stepping through the back room and towards the downstairs hallway that lead to the attached Sushi shop and his and Tezuka-san's room.

Akutsu remained motionless in the corner, eyes barely moving from the wall. Most people would consider him a bad person to have guarding the house, but little did they know the gray haired man could move with lightning fast reflexes no matter how drugged he was and once he got those hands on you...needless to say you would never do whatever you were doing again.

Yukimura sat down behind the counter, quietly coughing into the handkerchief he had received. The smell of the opium was cloying and hard to breathe past, it clouded the brain and made the world swim.

"Dan, could you open the curtain in front of the door please?" Seiichi sighed, keeping the kerchief by his face to filter out some of the smoke. He had no idea how Fuji could sit down here with the misty haze of opium constantly.

"Of course, desu," he scurried around the counter and adjusted the curtain, letting in the cool night air. Dan looked at Akutsu disapprovingly.

"You really shouldn't smoke so much, desu..." he sat down on a shorter stool next to Akutsu. The taller man looked down briefly before turning his eyes back to the wall, not acknowledging the boy.

Yukimura was about to say something else but was stopped as a tall, dark man walked through the door. The distinctive mark on his forehead betrayed him always as Tachibana Kippei, a black market dealer that came regularly. This man was the bane of Kamio's existence currently, always after Shinji even though he had been informed that Ibu didn't take customers.

He laid down his money and Yukimura took it, counting then setting it inside Fuji-san's pouch. Seiichi carefully removed the tag that had the name Ibu/Kamio on it, the only duel tag on the board and set it beneath the counter, noticing Kirihara's tag was still down. That meant Renji-sensei would be staying the night as usual. He would have to remember to tell Dan to ready the man's kimono so he could get to his job in the morning.

Yukimura sighed softly, watching Tachibana walk wordlessly to the back and disappear up the staircase, his footfalls creaking the old wood, marking his progress.

OooooO

Historical Notes (pt3)

(1) A bi is a small jade disk that is very common in jewelry but was used as a demon warding charm. Usually strung with red silk and having a small tassel on the end with gold thread, worn by men mostly.

(2)Momo-chan basically means little peach. The peach, ever since ancient times, was a model for the female genitalia. You can still see fertility rocks that were worshipped in the shape of peaches in Japan today. Though the worship became out of style. And the idea of calling a full-grown male chan is rather ridiculous.

(3)Tea ceremony is a tradition in Japan that is time honored. It is done quite often for ceremonial purpose though usually in an open area where people can enjoy the outdoor atmosphere. The whole ceremony Shinji does is as accurate as I can get it without making it boring. From the cleaning of the tools with the white rag, the ritual hand washing and the motions...so, if there are any detailed questions that need clarified just e-mail me.

(4)Maiko is the doll stage of the Geisha. They are overly dressed and painted, you can tell them apart from the actual Geisha's by their obi's that will be tied with a huge bow on the back that flows down almost to the ground. Also their distinctive split-peach hairdo that is coiled up almost like a geisha's but has a red bit of cloth to represent their innocence and is also her real hair, where a Geisha will start wearing a wig. They also wear much higher clogs.

_**Heart** to all the reviewers!_


	4. Wrapped Around his Fingers

_This chapter just took everything out of me. Oi. So, I probably won't be updating for a while because I will be away for Thanksgiving. Though I make a promise of Fan art for this story while I'm at home and have some access to a scanner. Yay?_

_Itis two in the morning and if there are any mistakes please forgive me, but I want to go to bed. _

**Pairings:** Tez/Fuji (this will probably never happen again. But I hope I portrayed them well.) Taka/Fuji implications.

OooooO

Fuji walked into the backroom, leaning down to fix some of the silk bolts that had unraveled onto the floor. He sighed, tidying up a bit, gentle hands folding the heavy material and stacking the multicolored fabrics onto any available surface. Moving about quietly he slipped out of the room and into the hallway, sparing a glance up the candle-lit stairs that led to the courtesan's rooms. Bypassing the staircase he moved down the hall towards the sound of clattering ceramic.

His footfalls were silent, tabi covered feet padding toe first along the wooden floorboards. More graceful then any cat, Fuji Syusuuke was the perfect picture of beauty, mistaken for a woman his entire life, it gave him the advantage of having a husband without anyone suspecting anything. He himself had grown up in a brothel, only to be saved from the hardship by Tezuka Kunimitsu, who was a wealthy silk merchant. They moved from Kyoto and secretly married before opening up their current shop, Fuji deciding to run a brothel upstairs for the unfortunates that were forced into the trade.

Syusuuke turned down a connected hallway that led to the sushi shop, moving closer to the sound of tinkling porcelain. Moving through the strips of cloth hanging from the doorway that separated the kitchen from the hallway, the fabric sliding over his hand and dropping behind him. A form leaned over a wooden tub, washing the white and blue china dishes, strong hands gentle with the delicate ceramic. Fuji smiled lightly, clear blue eyes watching as the man stood back, drying off his hands and arms, simply patterned sleeves tied back with navy blue.

"You are working late tonight, Taka-san," the melodic voice caused the other to turn, hands pausing in their drying, draping the cloth over his forearm.

"Ah...well, it was busy. Washing dishes is relaxing anyways," Kawamura Takashi smiled, rubbing the back of his head. He was tall and broad shouldered, strong from the manual labor of lifting and hauling fish from the harbor. The two shops doubled their business since they shared the same building and advertised for each other; the rent was also much easier to deal with considering both shops were very successful.

Taka finished drying off his arms and let the sleeves down on his simple, blue and white, bamboo(4) patterned kimono. His short, light brown hair was kept away from his brow with a white braided headband and his eyes were kind, dark brown depths that were always soft and smiling.

Fuji closed the distance between the two, his tomesode(1) was in subdued spring colors of pale yellow with a tastefully embroidered green and gold obi, as well as a simple corded, gold obi-jime(2). The colors complimented his pale hair and fair skin, giving him the softest glow of health and an almost surreal presence. The spring had finally come, time for lighter kimono and blooming flowers, Fuji's favorite season. He had jumped on the first opportunity to switch over from the dry winter prints to the warm weather floral prints. The gold thread in his obi caught the candlelight, reflecting a pattern of lotus blossoms(3) that were sewn so delicately into the fabric only the light could reveal them.

Pushing some of his pale hair out of his eyes, he opened the crystal blue orbs to look up at Kawamura. Taka looked back, lips parting slightly, always astounded by Fuji's unique beauty. His hand reached up to touch the other's cheek, fingertips running over smooth skin. Fingers twitched slightly and he pulled them away, carefully. The burning sensation rippled over his skin, pricked his nerves to razor sharpness and all his senses heightened beyond his control. Gasping softly, he shut his eyes, willing the feeling away.

"Business will really be picking up now that winter is over. Everyone will be out and about again, I'm so excited to see more familiar faces," long, tapered fingers moved up and ran dexterously over collar of Kawamura's yukata. Fuji's skin brushed against the slightly exposed sternum of Taka's chest and he smirked at the sound of hissing breath. Looking up, those eyes shone with mischief, sharp as steel and cold as ice but twice as pretty. Kawamura's eyes were closed tight, fighting back the urge to grab the beauty before him and have his way with him. Fingersspasmed at his sides, pressing into his thighs and bunching the fabric slightly.

Fuji's hand tracked down the kimono's collar and gently folded the fabric, straightening it, moving further down. Lithe fingers stopped at the belt that held the cloth closed, toying with the end, wrapping it around his pinky before stepping away. Tabi-covered feet twisted slightly on the wood floor and a smile graced his lips as his eyes closed in a contented lull.

"Well, I really must go see Tezuka, have a good night Taka-san," sweet voice echoed in Kawamura's ears, mouth parted, breath heavy. The lovely creature stepped through the curtained door like a ghost, leaving no trace that he had been there at all except the faint smell of opium and lilac.

"G..goodnight Fuji-san..." his voice shook slightly, lost in the now empty room. He turned back to the bowls, eyes slightly glazed and thoughts everywhere but on the task at hand.

Fuji smiled to himself as he slipped back into the main hallway, listening to the tittering of the ceramic behind him. He padded silently to the end of the hall, kneeling in front of the door. Sliding the door to the side he bowed, even though his husband slept soundly, and moved into the room, closing the door with the softest clack. Fuji moved towards the soft breathing, gracefully folding to his knees beside the futon.

His hands reached to touch the sleeping form, running up along the arm that protruded from the blanket. Soft fingers traced the top edge of the cover, pulling it back away from the other man's sleeping form, folding it down at the end of the bed. Fuji noticed when the breathing changed and he leaned forward as Tezuka's eyes opened sleepily, blinking once. Lips parted to speak but Fuji's finger pressed against them before he leaned forward to claim them rather forcefully.

Tezuka sighed into the mouth on his, eyes closing again as he felt dexterous hands move to untie the belt that kept his plain, white sleeping kimono shut. Lips moved in a delicate dance, though the smaller of the two held the upper hand, always controlling the situation with gentle movements and unspoken suggestion. The belt slipped away with a smooth movement, coiling on the tatami beside the futon. The kiss was never broken as hands parted the kimono, moving along a bared thigh and working softness to hardness. Brilliant fingers moved in just the right way, evoking passion in mere moments.

Tezuka knew this routine, petal soft lips pressing into his, to others they would seem to beg but to him they commanded. Demanded him to submit, to give to the other anything he wanted. So he submitted, breathing heatedly heightening, kiss becoming harder, taking his breath like a spirit come to steal his soul.

In one fluid movement he straddled Tezuka, loosening his obi just enough to flick the kimono back and expose what needed to be exposed. The yellow fabric was modestly covering, flowing like water over Tezuka's thighs and the dark blue sheets of the futon. Fuji produced a small vial from the hidden pocket in the sleeve of his kimono, popping the cap off and the waft of exotic spice filled the air. His fingers coated themselves in the oil and he leaned back, blue eyes piercing like knives through Kunimitsu's. His hand disappeared beneath the folds of his kimono between his legs, eyes snapped closed and lips let loose the softest of moans. Fingers slid into himself, stretching and moving, preparing himself in teasing temptation before Tezuka's now fully aware eyes.

Once still hands moved from Tezuka's sides to coast along Syusuuke's tiny waist, squeezing the moving hips lightly. Stretching his back in supine splendor, Fuji bit his lower lip to hold back another purring sigh as he added a third finger, filling himself up leaving his body ready for his lover's length. Sliding oiled fingers out of his passage with a soft gasp at the emptiness, he shifted in his husband's lap. The now throbbing flesh was slipped inside with a skilled movement of the hips, claiming yet another part of his lover, owning every inch of him in the most intimate of ways.

His body began to move, hands resting on Tezuka's chest, palms flat against his ribcage. Fingers flexed and massaged at the skin there, digging in as his hips demanded more and more from the reclining man. Kunimitsu's eyes opened, clouded with lust as they stared up at his riding 'wife'. He made no move to take control of the situation, he had found that he had no place to interject in these intimate moments. Fuji dictated his life and everything in it and Tezuka had resigned in the fact that he didn't mind because his love for the feminine man surpassed his need to be in charge.

Eyes squinted shut, creasing at the edges as passion coiled in his stomach. His hands moved to Fuji's waist, touching with the gentlest of pressure, never overwhelming the rhythm that had taken over both of them. Fuji's soft panting and quiet moans were more consistent, his body moving in erratic glory. The soft light from the moon falling from the small window lit up the delicate pale face, eyes closed in ardor. Fuji's head fell back, biting his lip sharply so his cry was caught behind delicate lips. His hand scrabbled between his legs, disappearing beneath the silk to stroke his own desire. Completion swept over him in a wave, crashing into him as he doubled over his lover's body, lips parting and gasping his partner's name over his cheek.

Tezuka felt the warm breath move across the skin of his jaw, his dark hair tickling along his brow. His senses were heightened as those slender hips jerked spastically in their orgasm, continuing even after the other was finished. Begging the only way Fuji ever did, his hips continued, wanting Kunimitsu's own end to flood his body. His head tilted up, leaning to nip at Tezuka's lower lip, tiny hips pressing more insistently, his breath was panting softly, hair tousled and falling in his closed eyes.

"Kunimitsu-chan...please..." soft, feminine voice whimpered in his ear, lower lip trembled lightly against the sensitive skin there.

It hit him like a flood, leaving nothing but white as he stared at the ceiling. Body convulsed up into Fuji, who moaned into his ear, pressing down and up to milk out every inch of Tezuka's passion. Shivering slightly as he felt the body above his slide up and off of him, silk dragging teasingly along his achingly sensitive flesh. Syusuuke moved about the room, quietly cleaning himself up and departed. Like an apparition, Fuji never stayed, leaving the remnants of his release growing cold on Kunimitsu's thighs and stomach as a testament that it was no dream.

Tezuka stood, tired eyes protesting as he gathered his dirtied sleeping kimono, and headed towards the bath outside.

OooooO

Historical Notes(pt3)

1 _Tomesode_ is a normal women's kimono but it has the shorter sleeves of a married woman. The opposite of this type of kimono is _Furisode, _which is the long sleeved kimono of unmarried women.

2 The Obi-Jime is the cord that goes over an obi, almost a finishing touch to break up the colorful patterns of the obi. It's basically a decorative accessory that is added as the very last piece of the kimono.

3 Lotus blossoms mean estranged love, love not returned or the illusion of love where there really is none. I will be doing a lot of flower symbolism in the future. The Japanese have a tendency to use flowers a lot to say what they truly mean without saying it aloud.

4 Sorry this one is out of order. I had forgotten it was up there. But anyways Bamboo represents strong morals or an outstanding citizen. It also can stand for a perfect gentleman. A contrast to Fuji's flower.

**Love** to all the readers.


	5. Blood and Tatami

_What to say…Well, I apologize for this being immensely late, I had major writers block, compounded with other issues that I had to deal with first. There will be another long wait for the next chapter as well due to me being away from a computer for my break. Apologies in advance._

**tezuka eiri** – You asked a couple of questions so lets see if I can clear them all up. First off the plot, it will all come together when the story is over, generally it's hard to define a complicated plot in just a few chapters anyways. But I assure you, there is a plot. The Fuji/Tez question, that is really all the background I choose to give them because they are just supporting characters, I'm focusing more on the courtesans then on the owners, I just felt they deserved enough background that you knew where they were coming from. If there is anything I didn't clear up, feel free to e-mail and I can go more in depth. )

Pairings and Rating: PG-13 at most for this chap. InuKai, MomoKai, Tachibana/Kam/Ibu

Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Yukimura sighed softly, propping his chin up with his fist. He tilted his head slightly, observing the fact that Akutsu hadn't moved an inch since he had come downstairs to watch the counter for Fuji. Dan had abandoned his stool beside the white haired grunt to sit outside in the cool spring air, watching the people pass by. It wasn't very busy tonight; he briefly glanced back at the tags to confirm that Kamio/Ibu, Kaidoh and Kirihara's tags were missing.

His fingers toyed restlessly with the loose strands of his hair, his thoughts moving towards his missing lover. The man had become the constant in his mind, underlying in everything he did. Tongue darted out over painted lips, eyes closed as his psyche drifted, bringing back memories of entire nights spent in those strong arms. Those masculine hands knew just how to hold him, their embrace comforting and protective. He had no fear in those arms, no anxiety to even reflect on, complete peace. He could almost imagine the smell of sandalwood that clung to his clothes like an afterthought.

The touch on his hand startled him so much he almost imbalanced himself. Gentle fingers grasped his wrist so he wouldn't hit the ground and that's when he realized it wasn't sandalwood he smelled, but herbs.

"I was day dreaming…" Yukimura stuttered, his cheeks flushing with slight embarrassment at being found thinking of intimate moments with his significant other. Then he caught himself and bowed deeply to the guest, ashamed at his forgetfulness.

"Apparently it was a good day dream then," the deep voice was smooth, sliding against Yukimura's skin like velvet. He shivered lightly and smiled, looking up at the towering man. He wore a simple kimono of forest green, with a green and gray haori over it. Yukimura decided he must have come straight from work; the smell of tea and herbs was heavy on him, but not unpleasant.

"Kaidoh is with someone else?" the question confused Yukimura for a moment, then the memory hit him like a blow. Kaidoh was currently with Momoshiro. This was bad. Yukimura fumbled for an answer before a gentle hand touched his shoulder. He turned to see Fuji-san standing there, holding Kaoru's tag.

"It must have fallen, I was just up there and he was still asleep. I'll have Yukimura-chan go up and get him ready. It will be just a moment," this all said with a gentle and disarming smile curved across his lips. Yukimura observed the owner's cheeks were slightly flushed and he briefly wondered what Fuji had been up to before he was nudged towards the hallway.

Yukimura bowed again before he shuffled through the backroom and hurried up the stairs. His kimono held up daintily so he could move his legs in longer strides, taking him quickly towards Kaoru's door. Knuckles wrapped softly against the wooden frame and he waited there quietly for admittance. A moment passed before he could see a shadow move towards the door, it slid open with a soft hiss. Kaoru stood, adjusting the collar of his layered kimonos so that it covered his shoulder, his cheeks were slightly flushed and his obi in disarray.

"Yes," he sighed, trying to adjust his head-wrap that had slid backwards off his head and was unwinding in the back. Seiichi glanced back into the room; Momo was lying on his side on the futon, gazing towards the door with a calm look gracing his visage. Yukimura reflected that the artist seemed to come here to talk and relax more then for creature comforts. Vaguely he wondered why the handsome man didn't take a wife, he was sure the children would be beautiful violet eyed devils, just like their father.

"Inui-san's here," his whisper barely audible. Kaidoh's eyes blinked in surprise and he hurriedly adjusted his kimonos and reached to tighten his obi. Yukimura watched as Momo rose from his lounging position and stood, striding over to slip his hands around Kaoru's waist.

"Give us a moment, sweets," he winked at Seiichi and tugged Kaidoh back into the room, the courtesan turned, eyes angry before the doors clicked shut behind him. Yukimura sighed, bringing his finger to his mouth to chew on the nail nervously. He rested back against one of the supports, eyes drifting to a crack in the door cattycorner to him. The rice paper door had been left partially open, revealing the inside of the room. Seiichi blushed slightly, not wanting to stare, but somehow not able to tear his eyes away.

Beyond the paper cage the waft of jasmine incense seeped into the hall. Shinji knelt quietly on the floor, a delicate paper fan decorated with white roses (1) covering his mouth and leaving nothing but those heavy lidded, dark eyes staring over it. His other hand rested on Kamio's shoulder, the other man's head buried in Ibu's lap, face hidden by a shock of auburn hair. Pale fingers twisted and coiled in the lengths of silk that covered Shinji's legs, convulsing in the fabric.

Seiichi's eyes moved up from those clenching hands, finding the disheveled kimono Kamio usually wore bunched around his waist, large hands grasping those tiny hips. Tachibana pressed into him from behind, squeezing that small waist hard enough to leave his handprints in the pale flesh. Kippei's dark eyes stared only at Shinji, though Ibu stared beyond him, lips still behind the fan. The rejection just caused Tachibana to thrust harder, wrenching choked cries from the man below him who emptied his voice into folds of silk and skin.

The room stood in silence, nothing but the muffled noise of Akira's whimpers and the distinctive noise of skin against skin. Tachibana and Shinji remained quiet, Kippei's eyes locked on Shinji, his movements faster and harder, his frustration at being unable to have Ibu taken out on the redhead beneath him.

A hand fell on Yukimura's shoulder, startling the feminine man so much he bit off the tip of his nail he hand been chewing on. Spinning around, cheeks rouging as he looked up at Momoshiro. The man smiled down at him, hand slipping from his shoulder.

"All done. Shall I go wait in your room until the great Inui-san comes up?" the artist grinned, knowing the routine. Kaoru stood with his back to the door, kimonos all lined up, obi pulled tight and proper around his waist. Takeshi slipped the door closed as Kaidoh reached to retie his head wrap, the silk slipping around his short hair, hiding it beneath the pristine white cloth.

Yukimura nodded, escorting him into the room and closing the door. He padded quickly past Kamio and Ibu's door, hurrying down the stairs and to the front of the shop. Inui was making small talk with Fuji, the man looked up from the owner as Seiichi entered the room, smiling genially.

"He is ready for you, Inui-san," Yukimura bowed deeply before leading the tall, bespectacled man through the backroom and up the staircase into the candlelit hall. When he reached Kaoru's room, the door was open and Kaidoh was standing there, waiting as he always did for his customers. He bowed gracefully, stepping back so Sadaharu could enter the room that smelled of some sweet flower Yukimura could never quite pinpoint and didn't have the courage to ask.

"Thank you, Yukimura," that raspy baritone spoke softly, pale brown eyes meeting Yukimura's blue ones for a moment before he turned and shut the door. Seiichi sighed softly and moved into his own room, finding Momo leaning against the futon, legs stretched out in front of him with a lazy look on features.

"All clear?" Momo smiled up at him, losing the wistful look he had been wearing moments ago. Seiichi nodded, hands folding in front of him, long sleeves brushing along the ground. Standing, the artist in the pale yellow kimono moved towards the door, violet eyes looking weighted, though a smile still graced his features. Kissing Yukimura's cheek gently he disappeared into the hallway without another word. His head turned to stare at Kaoru's door before he vanished down the stairs, leaving the hallway somehow melancholy and lonely.

Seiichi's hands fiddled with the purple handkerchief, tracing the pattern of wisteria (2) with his fingertips. His throat felt thick, tight and he thought for one moment he was going to cry. Though the feeling was frightened away as the door next to his slammed open with an angry click, hitting the support beam so hard Yukimura was surprised it hadn't cracked from the force.

Tachibana left the room with measured calm; one would never know his anger at being denied the true reason he came to this brothel. The man wanted Ibu, but couldn't have him and every night that tension grew more and more until it was left heavy and foreboding in the hallways. The door shut again with an equally angry slam, the paper shivered along the walls causing the firelight behind them to dance mysteriously along the thin material.

Another door slid open, wooden slots whispering along each other as it clicked completely open. Gakuto, the overdressed beauty, looked out into the hall, frown on his pretty little face. The living doll stepped fully into the corridor, feet moving slowly to lay in a completely silent step on the hall's tatami. Wetting those perfectly painted lips, Mukahi Gakuto's sweet, tenor voice reached Seiichi's ears.

"It is so noisy tonight, don't you think? Was that Tachibana-san?"

Yukimura moved so he was more fully in the hallway as well, folding the kerchief and placing it back in the pocket of his sleeve. "Yes…it has been rather noisy. How are you tonight?"

"Lonely." The single word echoed Yukimura's feeling and then Gakuto turned and left the corridor as quickly as he appeared. Usually Mukahi was all sharp tongue and heated temper. The soft word left Seiichi believing there was a heart underneath all that makeup and wrath. Again the loneliness gathered in his throat, restricting his air even more then the disease and he began to cough. Choking on his own emotion he shivered, bracing himself against the wood supports as he doubled over, chest heaving. He tasted copper on his tongue, covering his mouth to try and hide the splash in his dark purple sleeve. Gasping for air, he feared he was going to pass out in the hall, not enough oxygen making it past the coughing.

His vision was going black on the outside, hands shaking as his knees collapsed. However he never hit the floor but hovered there for a moment, before he felt the grip on his waist. A pillow was being pushed into his chest, held firm against his convulsing lungs. It didn't hurt as much any more, the coughing began to subside even as blood slipped down the corner of his mouth. It stained the tatami, dark red seeping along the woven fibers, though neither of the two noticed.

Those hands removed the pillow from his chest, tossing it away; he could hear the plop as it hit the floor a little ways away. He panted softly, taking in the much-needed air, it felt scratchy along his throat. The arms around his waist turned him around and Niou looked down at him frowning deeply. Concentrating on just breathing at the moment, he rested his head on the white-haired man's shoulder, hands curled up against his chest. Being held like this was comforting, he wanted to forget that black tinge on the edges of his vision, wanted to forget the feeling of drowning. Gentle hands rubbed up and down his back, massaging the tense muscles into relaxation.

"I'm sorry…Masaharu…" he was still out of breath, his voice shaky and abrasive as if he had been screaming.

"Shh…it isn't any trouble. Why don't you come to my room and rest a bit. I don't think my Kabuki actor or your samurai will be coming tonight," he coaxed Yukimura towards his door, supporting the smaller man against him. Seiichi only nodded, moving carefully towards the messy room of Niou. He stepped carefully over three masks, all of which had immaculately brushed hair, braided to preserve it. Other masks covered the walls, leering demons, beautiful Heian maidens and ghostly visages of the past. Each mask was given to him by his main caller, Niou had once told Yukimura that he wore them for him, was a different person every time his caller came, hiding himself behind the porcelain.

Narrowly avoiding stepping in an open jar of white face makeup, Yukimura finally made it to the futon and sat down heavily on it, relieved that he didn't have to dance across the littered floor anymore.

Niou stepped out of his clogs, leaving him a good five inches shorter. Before stepping over to the bed he leaned out of the doorway and yelled for Dan. His voice bellowed down the hall, completely uncalled for but that was Niou in a nutshell. Yukimura could hear the pattering footsteps as he ascended the stairs and jogged down the hall, stopping in front of the door.

"Get me some warm water," Niou said, in his unceremonious way. Dan bowed and headed off down the hall again. Waiting by the door, Niou tapped his toes on the tatami, crinkling them and bunching up the woven strands so they would have to be replaced soon so as not to trip any of the guests. His profile was truly gorgeous, sharp pointed features and heavy lidded eyes with the most piercing blue irises Yukimura had ever seen. His makeup made his skin starkly white, dark lapis dust was rubbed around his eyes, circling them in blue that made the orbs all the more blade-like, so sharp they cut through the soul, making you feel naked under that gaze. The man was pure mystery, he had been working here long before any of the current courtesans had started, never bothering to tell anyone his story.

Niou shifted slightly and the waft of bittersweet opium that announced the arrival Akutsu drifted down the hallway. His bare feet fell heavily along the floor, appearing in the doorway with Dan by his side, carrying a porcelain bowl full of steaming water. Dan's hand held Akutsu's sleeve, looking displeased at the immensely taller man. Obviously the bodyguard decided to relieve the boy of his job of carrying the water, due to the many mishaps that occurred with spilled water from the heavy ceramic bowls. Tawny eyes peered into the room momentarily as Niou took the bowl carefully from his large hands, relieving him of weight that seemed feather light in his grip. Niou's muscles strained slightly from the heft momentarily before easing the bowl into the room and onto a stool.

Akutsu looked down at Dan who still clutched the short sleeve of his yukata, a plain gray with a dancing green dragon coiling around the edges, and shifted the pipe from one side of his mouth to the other. The boy tugged lightly and they headed down the stairs, the giant so gentle with the smaller boy when he was so volatile with anyone else. Yukimura didn't care to try and understand the man; he was much like an ill-tempered tiger, ready to bite at any moment.

Masaharu walked back into the room, pulling the stool with the water on it over to the corner and motioning for Seiichi to join him, laying a towel on the floor and draped another on the lip of the bowl. Yukimura moved across the room daintily, tabi covered toes carefully avoiding each cluttered object that littered the tatami. He knelt carefully down on the towel, watching Niou's hands slip into the water, his six inch long, carefully painted fingernails wavered underneath the clear liquid, the perfectly painted dragons danced as the waters surface rippled. He rung out the towel, watching the drops patter back into the water, his mind wandering again until he felt the cloth touch his face. Closing his eyes he let Masaharu wipe off the layers of makeup, revealing pallid skin, slightly pink from the scrubbing.

Discretely Niou removed the blood that had dried from the side of Yukimura's mouth and chin, folding the towel and draping it back on the side of the bowl. Cobalt blue eyes fluttered open and the delicate man sighed softly, brushing back a few strands of damp hair that were sticking to his cheek.

"Thank you, Masaharu…" the voice was soft and still scratchy, he cleared it carefully and winced at the pain.

"You should probably go to bed…" Niou stood and offered his hand to Yukimura who took it carefully, standing. He nodded and bowed to the taller man, disappearing into the hallway, a wistful look across his features. Masaharu shook his head slightly, pale blue eyes watching as the delicate courtesan left the room.

Yukimura made his way to his own room, taking note that almost all the doors were closed except for his own and Niou's. Gakuto never bothered to open his door, Kirihara was with his customer as was Kaidoh, and Kamio was always in a foul mood after seeing Tachibana. As he neared his own door it seemed that there was a crack in frame around Kamio's door from the slamming; Fuji-san would not be pleased with the redhead.

Just as he was about to enter his room the door beside his slid open and clacked against the support beam. The broken frame sent a few splinters of wood fluttering to the ground as Kamio stepped out of the room, single eye slit, cat like and angry. Shinji clung to his arm, shaking his head and trying to pull him back inside, but Kamio dislodged himself as gently as the redhead knew how and stepped into the hallway fully.

"I'll be back in a little bit, Shinji," he shook his sleeve free of the other's lingering grip, the yukata a maroon with a single bat (3) on the hem in the back, it fell past his ankles hiding the knife that was sheathed there. They could never leave together but Kamio was permitted to depart from the brothel because it was a fact he would never leave Shinji behind, so there was no threat of him disappearing on Fuji if Ibu was still present. Normally he went out and gambled, or drank. Anything to just get him away from the atmosphere of the paper walls and sweet smelling air.

Shinji stood behind the threshold of the door, not stepping into the hallway but staring at Kamio with those dark, fathomless eyes. Kamio gritted his teeth slightly, uncertain for a moment, but in the end turned and stomped down the hallway and descended the stairs. Ibu stood there quietly, staring down the corridor before turning and shuffling further into the room, kneeling before closing the door with both hands in the traditional fashion.

Sighing softly Yukimura stepped into his room and closed the door behind him, resigning that he would spend this night alone. He began removing his outer kimono, leaving the sheer inner one on and letting down his hair. Kneeling he brushed it, combing the knots carefully from the wavy strands. As he stood to move over to the futon and lay down, he heard the first few notes being plucked on the Samisen. Then soon a song began to whisper eerily along through the building, a song played with expert fingers, moving in melodic drifts through the quiet rooms.

Yukimura laid down on his futon, closing deep blue eyes and letting the music slide over him. The soft plinking of the strings sang the song of a lover left to die in the cold, winter consuming her soul and leaving her adrift in a sea of white for eternity. A depressing song for a solemn night, as Shinji expressed his feelings in the only way he knew how, through the arts he learned when training to be a geisha.

Eyes remained closed and Seiichi fell asleep to the strains of the dark melody that lulled him into dreams of longing and need.

Oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Historical Notes (pt5)

1. White Roses have a few meanings but in this case they mean Silence.

2. Wisteria is a symbol for graceful and also stands for strength in mental and physical health.

3. Bats are a symbol for good luck, or being lucky in general. Good to wear if you plan on gambling.

**Love to all the reviewers.**


	6. The Prisoner the Peach and the Pharmacis...

_This one took immensely longer then I thought it would, I wasn't near my computer on break and then I returned and tried to write, finding that Inu/Kai is one of the hardest pairings to write NC-17 with and for my sanity's sake I let it go for awhile…then my faithful roommates returned…_

_Special thanks to my roommates Weedy Weed and G, because they both continuously harassed me until I wrote this chapter and it would have never gotten done without the bothering._

_Also much thanks to all the reviewers…you all make writing this so much more enjoyable and your support definitely helps keep me focused. hugs to you all_

Pairings: Momo/Kai, Inu/Kai

Rating: NC-17

Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Kaidoh's fingers slipped through short strands of black hair, large exotic eyes staring down at the man whose head was in his lap. He knelt properly on the futon, toes touching, knees folded perfectly. Momoshiro lounged on his back; head nestled in the dip of Kaidoh's lap where his legs met. Calloused, yet delicate, fingertips twisted the hair between thumb and forefinger, twirling the strands together and making them spike up. Purple eyes drifted shut, listening to the quiet movements outside of the room and the soft breathing of the other man.

The hall was so quiet, only soft noises that betrayed movements in the other rooms could be heard if one was listening. Through the floor he could hear the clink of ceramic and the creak of feet on the ground level hallway. Rolling onto his side, he pressed his cheek into Kaidoh's thigh, feeling the muscle give a bit as he rubbed cat-like once along the lean upper leg.

A hand ghosted along Kaidoh's side and snatched the trailing end of silk that fell from his head wrap. Tugging sharply he unraveled it slightly, pulling it back off of the courtesan's forehead, leaving a few dark strands of hair sticking out. Kaoru hissed, staring down at Momo with an exasperated look, considering his obi was already askew and his kimono had been disrupted so that lips could kiss his collarbone and shoulder.

"So…" Momo purred, purple eyes traveling up to look at Kaidoh's face, a smile sliding along his lips. He shifted onto his stomach, kissing the courtesan's knee through the silk, then moved slowly up the covered thighs. Hands blocked his lips from moving any further up and a soft hiss brought Momoshiro's eyes back up to Kaoru's face. Those eyes were half slit in annoyance, but still held an air of enticement that drove Takeshi crazy. That gentle up tilt at the edges, those deep brown depths and the large perfect roundness allowed the orbs to almost rival his beautiful pouty lips. Momo shivered slightly, staring at those lips, imagining them on him, anywhere, soft press of fullness caressing his skin, wet and soft and…

The knock on the door jarred him from his thoughts, he blinked and noticed Kaidoh frowning in the direction of the door then looking down at him. Sighing Takeshi moved out of his lap and propped his head on his hand to see what the distraction would be this time. Seemed there was always some sort of distraction anymore, either an argument down the hall, a fit being thrown, Kaidoh being difficult or his least favorite, Inui-san had shown up at an odd time.

Kaidoh stood carefully, so graceful and fluid it was almost inhuman, and moved towards the door, sliding it open. Yukimura stood there; looking slightly flushed but pretty as always, he whispered something to Kaidoh and the reaction was unmistakable. Inui-san was definitely here and it looked like it was time for Momo's departure. Standing quietly he moved to stop Kaoru's hands from adjusting the obi and slipped them around the small waist.

"Give us a moment, sweets, " Momo gave Yukimura his best smile as Kaidoh turned and practically snarled at him as he was drug back into the room, door clacking shut to seal them from the outside.

Before Kaidoh had a chance to snap at him he pressed his lips into the courtesans, feeling the soft petals tremble slightly in surprise but accept the kiss readily. His hands moved to pull the obi all the way off, letting the obi-jime coil on the floor. Multiple colored layers of kimono fell heavily to the side, not exposing but leaving it enticingly easy to get to what Momoshiro truly wanted. He pulled back abruptly and leaned down to pick up the obi, adjusting it and held it draped on one arm.

"Let's get you put back together," Momo smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkling attractively, eyes sparkling slightly.

Huffing, Kaidoh adjusted the three kimonos properly and held his arms up so Momo could rewrap the obi around his waist, tightening it and tucking it securely. He had learned to do it from Fuji so he could be the one to redress Kaidoh when he was in disarray, enjoying the extra time he could spend with him with something as simple as putting an obi on the man that held all his affections in the palm of his hand. Securing the obi-jime he stood back to admire his work, smiling at the fact that the silk head-wrap was still in disarray and Kaoru's cheeks were slightly pink. Moving back towards the courtesan he slipped his hands back around his waist, fingers crawling along the silk to pull the other flush against him. His lips moved to kiss gently behind one ear before his whispered question was uttered in a soft breath.

"Let me paint you, Kaoru…please," the artist's plea echoed in his mind for a moment, leaving Kaidoh quiet. Momoshiro had worked on him before, hands, face, feet and even his lower legs. All in delicate but realistic ink sketches that he had been told hung in the artist's studio, where he gazed at them regularly. Kaoru knew what the man really wanted was to paint him in a full nude, serpent tattoo bared and coiling over his skin, something he never did for anyone was bare himself completely. Even Inui-san had never seen him completely naked, always leaving a kimono on to cover as much as possible, never giving all of himself to anyone.

"Ask me again next time, Momoshiro-san," Kaidoh whispered in his gravelly voice, the answer he gave Takeshi every night he asked.

With a slight nod, Momoshiro pulled away and walked towards the door, leaving Kaidoh facing away, eyes downcast and staring at the futon.

Kaidoh sighed as he listened to the door click shut, moving towards the mirror to redo the makeup on his eyes, staring into the reflective surface at himself, barely recognizing the face but beginning to accept it. It seemed like it had been so long since he had left home. His family had reached hard times, they weren't able to afford him and he knew, so he left without a word, disappearing into the night and leaving nothing of himself behind. Traveling as far away as he could, running into hard times and finding himself in places he never should have been. Then finally Fuji had found him in the streets and taken him in, giving him a home for just the small price of his body.

It was an unimportant thing, his body, just a vehicle for the mind, which he had been losing on the streets. He kept his past to himself, trying to forget it, not wanting to remember the warm arms of his mother, the stern kindness of his father or the blooming pride in his younger brother. Every night his prayers went out to them on the drifts of aronia(1) incense, prayers that wished an easier life for them and better opportunities with one less mouth to feed.

Standing he closed his makeup case and pushed it into the corner, moving towards the door and opening it to wait for the other man who was turning his closed little world upside down. He could hear the footsteps ascend the staircase and soon Yukimura appeared followed by his own tall lover. Bowing he greeted Inui, letting him into the room and his eyes briefly met Seiichi's.

"Thank you, Yukimura."

He slid the door closed and watched Inui walk inside, head tilting to look at one of the many ink paintings he had hanging on the wall. Momoshiro had made all of them; at least twenty-three decorated the walls, small, large and a variety of subject matters. Inui never inquired about them, but Kaidoh knew he was curious, lucky for him Sadaharu was tactful in his questions and hadn't broached the subject yet. Though it was only a matter of time before the inquisitive man interrogated him on the subject, he figured that he just hadn't gathered enough information to ask the proper questions yet.

"I had Dan-kun get us some hot water, I'd like you to try this new tea I had come in today," the deep voice almost made Kaidoh gasp, it slid across his skin, bringing goose bumps to the surface. He took a deep breath and moved over to the taller man, hands reaching to slide the haori off of broad shoulders. His fingertips dragged themselves over the edge of Inui's bare forearm, touching the slightly cool skin with the backs of his hands. The other man's head moved to look at Kaoru, eyes almost hidden behind thick lenses, and a slight smile ghosted over his lips.

Kaidoh flushed slightly, folded the haori and draped it on the stool that usually held his water bowl, which had been removed earlier this morning to reduce clutter. Also it was taken because of a past incident when Momoshiro had felt the sudden urge to start a water battle and had gotten the liquid all over the tatami, having to replace every single square in the room so it didn't mold. He sighed at the memory, rolling his eyes and straightening himself to turn back to his lover.

He rubbed a hand over his wrist reflexively before moving across the room to pick up the small lacquered table. Muscles flexed beneath the silk, moving sinewy across bones as Inui watched the courtesan move the furniture effortlessly from one side of the room to the center. He wiped the surface off with a silk rag, placing it to the side and setting out the cushions to kneel on. Stepping back he surveyed his work and deemed it acceptable before turning to slide open the door, waiting for Dan.

Inui watched it all in silence, taking in the graceful, masculine courtesan who stood quietly in the doorway now. The light from the hallway made his features severe, glaring off his prominent cheekbones and reflecting off his large exotic eyes. His own eyes looked out behind thick glass, observing each movement as the beautiful captive took the tea set and moved back into the room, kneeling fluidly and setting the tray down on the table. Vaguely he heard the click of the door as Taichi closed it, not bothering to look over, his attention rapt for the only other figure in the room.

He circled around the room, moving behind Kaidoh and removing a folded paper packet from the sleeve of his yukata. Leaning over the courtesan's shoulder, he put the concoction of tealeaves and herbs into the pot, replacing the lid to let it brew.

Instead of moving around to the other side of the table he settled behind Kaoru, hands reaching to rest around the other man's slender waist. Kaidoh turned his head to look back, deep brown eye catching Inui's for a moment before turning away. The long fingers of the Pharmacist played with the ojime bead(2), loosening it from the obi-jime, untying the knot in one smooth tug and letting it slip away to the floor. The carved ivory bead rolled across the floor, settling forgotten by Kaoru's futon. Those hands slid up along the obi, catching the end and pulling that loose as well, letting the length of fabric bunch around Kaoru's hips, the first kimono falling slightly open around the neck, exposing the pale column of flesh.

The courtesan's hands moved to push the obi away, unwinding it and letting the outer kimono fall open more. Fingers hooked around the edges, pulling it back and away from Kaoru's chest, pulling it off one arm then the other and gathering the cloth before leaving it in a bundle near by. Kaidoh gasped as lips pressed against the back of his neck, his hands sought out the other man's, linking and grasping the digits, holding them against his thighs. Lips pressed against the skin, firmer this time, near the hairline and then teeth bit down on the ribbon of silk and tugged, pulling the hair wrap loose. It fell in white coils around Kaoru, settling over linked hands, silk soft against skin. Another kiss sent goose bumps prickling over his skin, his body shivering as if chilled.

"Inui-san…" the name slipped over full lips, whispering softly in the utter silence. Fingers gripped the other's hands tighter, thumbs ghosting across the soft flesh that smelled of herbs.

"Yes…" that deep voice in his ear, his whole body shuddered and bowed forward slightly. There was a crack as a knuckle popped, his fingers squeezing the other man's so tightly, clutching them against his stomach in desperation for control that he was losing. Arms pulled back, taking Kaidoh with them and forcing him to straddle the lap behind him, back to Sadaharu's front. His breath tickled along Kaidoh's nape, heat flushing along his shoulders and cheeks, body beginning to tremble slightly. Captive hands settled in the dip of Kaidoh's pelvis, pressing down against hidden arousal just causing the warmth to rise more.

"Are you planning on letting go any time soon…" baritone in his ear, breath caressing the whorls and tickling his already sensitive skin. His body burned from it, pressing back against Inui's chest and letting his head lull back on to his taller lover's shoulder. Head tilted slightly, he stared up at the other man, memorizing his features over again and his hands released, uncurling his smaller fingers from the long tapered ones of his lover. Once unconfined they moved up along his chest, parting kimono enough to worm closer to the much coveted skin and his head moved to claim full, promising lips.

The kiss was tentative, leaving the stain of makeup on Inui's own lips. Another soft press, full lips driving the taller man crazy leaving him wanting to devour the beautiful man in his arms. Pulling back just slightly he knew that his lover would chase him and he was pleasantly correct as Kaoru tilted his neck up to catch Inui's lips in another searing, yet searching kiss.

Hands had already peeled back another kimono while lips were preoccupied. It slumped back between them and Inui tugged it lightly until Kaidoh sat forward, lips practically bare of paint, just the slightest hint of red left on the swollen flesh. Second kimono swept away left only one heavy and the sheer under kimono and with previous experience Inui knew he would get no more off without protest. He coaxed Kaoru to settle back, hand wandering to thighs only to rake his fingers up them, gathering the silk with his fingertips and exposing muscled thighs. Before Kaidoh pushed the kimono down, Inui's hands slid to the side, gripping the kimono and lifting it out from underneath his lover so that what he wanted was accessible but still hidden.

The heavier of the two remaining kimono's slipped from the courtesan's shoulder, exposing beneath the sheer white fabric of the under kimono the writhing coils of Susa-no-wo. The snake god's scales rippled as Kaoru moved, green and gray underneath the barely there silk, waves coursing in the background, swallowing the sinner beneath the cleansing depths of the ocean. Inui's eyes were glued to the usually hidden tattoo(3) for a moment before he willed them away, reaching into the pocket of his sleeve to remove a vial he always placed there. His own special blend, an aphrodisiac of sorts that heated up once it touched inner, intimate skin.

He tilted the bottle, coating his fingers slick with oil that smelled strongly of cinnamon and clove. Kaidoh leaned forward, straddling Inui's knees, hands laying on the table in front of him, where the scent of the oil mingled with the heavy aroma of the tea. The courtesan tensed at the first finger, it slid in easily after a few strokes, then a second added. Lips found his neck again, nibbling along the prickling flesh and latching onto the lobe of one ear. A soft noise emitted, but was bit back, head turning to the side as the flush of red rose and over took the once prettily pale face. Fingers manipulated and stretched until he was perfectly prepared, panting slightly as knees secured themselves on the tatami, leaving him ready to receive.

Sadaharu's hands moved to his lover's hips, guiding him down slowly. Kaidoh's fingertips tensed, squeaking along the slick lacquered surface of the table. The need was there, burning into him, finding its way deeper inside until it was wrapped in the heat that was only growing hotter. Kaoru squirmed, the warmth making him all the more aware of his most intimate areas, blush staining his cheeks almost as red as his lips had once been.

The stillness drove him crazy, the itch to move was too much and he pushed back against Inui. Kaidoh's eyes squeezed close, willing the other to move but the pharmacist would not be rushed. He pulled the courtesan to sit back fully, running hands up and over the barely there inner kimono, fingers pressing into well defined muscle before running back down to slide over his lover's own desire.

Leg muscles tensed, toes crackled the tatami as they pressed down and slid back slightly. His breathing was choppy, breaking up as the heat of the oil burned along hypersensitive flesh. The tingle was maddening, driving the courtesan to move without thinking, kneeling up to seek out the hand and press back down when the other gentle hand pulled his hips back. Neck jerked to the side from the kisses, his body was on fire, burning with the need to be fulfilled. All Kaoru's poise and apathy was melting away beneath his lover's manipulations, gently feeding the fire of desire, causing it to burn more intensely until they both were lost in the oldest rhythm of man.

The movements became hectic, breath broken and gasping, falling from swollen panting lips. Inui felt the body in his lap jerk, liquid heat spilling over his fingers as his name spilled from the courtesan's lips, nothing but a raspy breath of sound. Inui's eyes squeezed shut behind smudged lenses, arms wrapping around his spent lover, holding him against his chest as his hips moved inside, forcing more choked noise from Kaidoh's throat.

Burying his face in Kaidoh's shoulder, lips pressing against the hidden coil of the great snake, he released. Arms convulsed around the slender, but strong, body in his arms, clinging as if it was a lifeline for just one brief moment before the white faded from behind his eyelids and he let them flutter open to allow the world to swim back into view.

He felt Kaoru's fingers thread through his again, holding them against his chest tightly. The beat of his lovers heart could be felt through the thin skin of the back of his hand, he sighed softly and placed one last chaste kiss on the back of Kaidoh's neck. His lover's head was slumped forward, feathered black hair, that was a little long by standards, hanging in his eyes, slightly damp from sweat. Gently he pulled him back so that the courtesan's head rested back on his shoulders, large black lined eyes were closed, lips slightly parted.

"I suppose the tea will be far too bitter to drink now…" Inui let the statement hang in the air, humor coloring the words as he stared down at his resting lover.

Eyes blinked open, heavy lids half closed and eyes all but black, pupil still devouring the iris. He bit his lower lip for a moment and frowned, sitting up and slipping out of Inui's lap to kneel on the floor beside him. Their fingers drifted apart, a tinge of regret tugging at Sadaharu's heart before he smiled at Kaidoh, removing his glasses and cleaning them off with a square of black silk that was hidden in the ever-useful pockets of the sleeve of his kimono.

"I apologize…it was wasted..." Kaidoh's voice was still hoarse from the love making, deep and resounding in the silent room. Somewhere in the hall it sounded like someone was plucking at the strings of a shamisen, Inui's brain noted off handedly before he leaned forward and kissed Kaidoh's cheek.

"Don't apologize, nothing is wasted on you," his hand reached up to push back the damp strands of hair that clung to Kaoru's face, brushing them away. Kaidoh blushed and turned to the tea set, a towel was laying on the tray, slightly moist from some of the water that had spilled over and he moved to clean them both off, meticulously avoiding his lover's gaze, which only made Inui smile more.

After he had made them both presentable again, Inui stood and straightened his yukata. Kaidoh stood and retrieved the haori, unfolding it and holding it out, helping Inui back into it. He adjusted his own kimono, just straightening it enough to be decent as he walked Sadaharu to the door. Reaching to open it, he was stopped by a gentle hand over his. Turning to look up his lips were captured in a chaste kiss, gentle and lingeringly sweet before Inui stepped away and opened the door, stepping outside. Exotic eyes blinked and he barely registered to bow as Inui left, moving through the lantern lit corridor and disappearing down the stairs.

Kaidoh stood and watched him leave before turning back into the room and closing the door with a soft clack. Listening he caught the strains of shamisen music, drifting along the hallway in quiet perfection. His eyes moved along the paintings on the wall and he put his hands over his face, standing lost in the large room, one of his candles petered out and died, leaving smoke to drift to the ceiling, casting the courtesan in semi-darkness as the sad song reflected feelings he could never reveal.

OooooooooooooooooooO

Historical Notes (chap6):

1. Kaidoh, I do believe…(please feel free to correct me if I'm wrong) means _Aronia_, which is more commonly known as the choke cherry. It has a tart, slightly floral smell and seemed appropriate to burn to his ancestors.

_2. Ojime_ are decorative beads that hold the obi-jime in place. Usually carved of ivory, jade or bone…some could be highly decorative and some could be very simple. All depended on the person.

_3. Tattoos_ are a symbol of a criminal or are usually associated with the Yakuza. It can be taken in whatever way you want in this story, because Kaidoh's past really hasn't been completely revealed. Though either way you're considered a bad person if you were tattooed.

_Love to all the reviewers!_


	7. Walking in the Daylight

(Many apologies for this being so late. I'm ashamed of its lateness…gah. Anyways, this chapter took quite a while and ran into many roadblocks, but I'm hoping this will be the last one to give me trouble since the next few are going to start revealing the underlying storyline. Following this one should be a short, two/three page interlude chapter.)

Warning: R

Pairings: Aku/Dan, Crack! and Kam/Shinji implications.

Dedicated to my Aki-mun.

oooooo

Stumbling out of the inn, Kamio almost tripped down the single low step, catching himself and squinting his single working eye at the sun that was streaming down from the azure sky. His head thrummed, hammering from behind the eye patch and if he had an eye back there he was sure it would have popped out from the pressure that was building behind the orbital socket.

He rubbed his fingers over the patch, leaning against the side of the building to let himself get used to the daylight. Light he saw so little of, confined to the night where the business he conducted could only take place in. Sighing he let his head fall back against the wall, staring up at the eave that left him with a bit of shade. A spider(1) wove a web there, delicate legs balancing along the thin strands of silk, weaving the intricate design finer then any human could ever dream. The silk shone as the light bounced off its iridescent surface, sparkling like a star fallen to earth.

The clop of horse hooves in the distance drew his gaze from the web to the road, staring down the dirt path that led to the bridge. As they drew nearer Kamio saw the flapping six coin flag(2) of the Sanada clan attached to the back of one of the riding samurai. So the great warrior had returned, the redhead thought and smirked. It had been over a week since Sanada Genichirou had rode out of town on his black warhorse, ready for battle. Yukimura would be ecstatic to know the renowned samurai had returned safely.

Taking in a deep breath he stepped back out into the light, narrowly missing a cart filled with sacks of rice. Grumbling he moved down the streets, watching the goings on of the small town. Women moved about sweeping off front porches, and the shops had opened hours before, selling their wares in the open air, or behind silk covered doorways.

He weaved in and out of the morning traffic, passing by Inui-san's apothecary, glancing inside and seeing the tall pharmacist weighing a bunch of herbs and talking to a customer. Continuing on he noticed Momoshiro's little stand wasn't set up yet, though everyone knew the artist showed up when he felt like it and no sooner. He scowled slightly and resisted the urge to childishly stick his tongue out in the direction of said stand and moved on, hand shoved in the fold of his kimono, head facing down and back hunched. Most people avoided the rough looking young man or whispered comments to their companions behind held up hands. Kamio ignored them all trudging to the building he called home, he raised his head up just in time to avoid crashing right into Yanagi who was just coming out of the building.

Blinking in surprise the older professor moved out of the way, avoiding collision. Kamio jumped slightly, startled by the sudden appearance of the familiar face and then bowed.

"Good morning, Yanagi-Sensei, did you sleep well?" Kamio said, tilting his head to the side to let his auburn hair fall in front of the patch.

"Better then usual…you look like you had a rough night," he stated softly, words somehow always sounding more intelligent when they came from Renji's lips.

Kamio nodded, looking up at the professor for a moment, noticing the bandage on his neck that was undoubtedly covering a bite wound. He bowed before continuing towards the building, stepping inside cautiously, hoping no customers were inside. Lucky for him it was empty except for Tezuka-san who was sitting behind the counter. The day manager looked up, glasses perched on the edge of his nose, and he briefly acknowledged the whore before turning back to the account books. Kamio bowed deeply in respect before heading through the backroom and towards the staircase.

He waded through the silk and popped out into the hallway, moving down it slightly and looking around. Pulling a pouch from the inside of his sleeve he checked the coins inside, confirming that all the yen were there. Smiling, he put his winnings back in his sleeve and went to head up the stairs to see Shinji. That was until he heard the noise coming from the spare room. Curious as always, Akira tiptoed down the hall, already having removed his shoes at the proper place underneath the staircase. He slid up to the partially open doorway with the silence of a seasoned pickpocket and peeked around the corner.

Kamio couldn't figure out if he was disgusted or surprised by the sight, either way he felt like observing this one to the end.

The spare room was usually the home of Taichi and sometimes Akutsu if he hadn't wandered into the streets and passed out in an alley, only to return promptly as the lights began burning in the brothel. Today they seemed to be sharing the space…in more ways then one.

Dan lay on his back, short yukata pushed open and draping around his small frame. The monster of a man known as Akutsu had both hands planted beside the boy's head, body poised over the smaller one, like a predator over prey. Those miniscule hands laid over Akutsu's biceps, so tiny compared to those strong, wiry arms. Kneeling between spread thighs, Jin's body moved slowly, pushing in with such gentleness. Gray hair fell limp around his face, heavy lidded eyes focusing down on the smaller body beneath it.

The floorboards creaked under the boy's shoulders as his hips were pulled further up into Akutsu's lap, sliding deeper still. Dan panted softly, lower lip trapped between small, white teeth, noises confined behind forced shut lips. Gray yukata, Akutsu left on but open, offered slight modesty, draping over their hips, catching on one of Dan's knees causing the green dragon(3) embroidered along the bottom to dance back and forth from the sway of fabric.

One last push and he was all the way in, face mere inches from the boy's, as if waiting. Taichi's eyes fluttered open, the light brown orbs watering slightly, he released his lip from their ivory confines, letting them part delicately. Akutsu leaned forward, claiming the mouth with a rough kiss, forcing Dan's head back slightly, pressing it against the pile of rejected silk that made a makeshift futon for the boy.

Lips never separated as long arms slid under the boys shoulder blades, bowing down to imprison him with his body. Dan's arms were able to wrap around Akutsu's neck now, slim fingers clinging to the yukata, bunching it around the powerful shoulders of the other man.

The redhead in the hall was frozen there, far too interested to leave. He had never thought he'd witness such passion from the rough man with the opium addiction. Akutsu was so considerate of his smaller companion even though the roughness still came through with the bordering brutal kisses and sharp movements of his hips. He remained pressed up against the wooden doorframe, single blue eye staring around to observe the strange phenomenon.

Dan's head fell back, the kiss breaking with a wet smack as Akutsu's shoulder's bunched up. The muscle slid like liquid under the skin, hard and unforgiving against the pale, translucent flesh. A growl deep and animalistic slipped from his throat, tawny eyes closing as his movements became even harder and more sporadic, leaving Kamio wondering how the slight boy beneath him could take the abuse.

Tiny fingers dug into powerful shoulders, only short, cut-off gasps coming from the boy as Akutsu pounded into him. Dan pressed his cheek against the man's pale upper arm, brown eyes opening and falling right on Kamio. Gasping, his head turned to hide in the other's neck as he tensed enough to cause Akutsu's head to snap to the side, gold eyes sharper then the finest katana. The redheaded courtesan found himself frozen beneath a gaze that one would never want to see turned on them as the opium addict disengaged slowly, wrapping the yukata around himself in one movement. Dan sat up, cheeks stained red as he watched the immensely taller man move towards the redhead in the hall. Kamio was panicking internally but found himself so pinned by the stare he couldn't move.

By the time the redhead had any mobility it was too late as the gray haired monster grabbed his wrist and hauled him back against the hallway wall. Hand moved from wrist to throat dragging the slighter man up to eyelevel and leaving him dangling a good foot off the floor, pressed painfully against the wood of the wall. Kamio coughed, hands grasping the other man's wrist in an attempt to get some of the pressure off his throat, he gagged, sputtering slightly as he was throttled. Pupils were nothing but pinpoints, surrounded by molten yellow that burned with an intense anger that would be quenched with nothing less then blood.

'Oni(4)…' the childhood nightmares that had been engrained into him were coming to life as he fell limp in the taller man's grip, though his fingernails dug into the muscled arm almost unconsciously. He was being irrational but he was terrified so much so he didn't even consider struggling.

Akutsu never bothered to say a word, free hand grabbing the loosely tied belt around Kamio's waist and tugging it off. The strip of maroon cotton fell to the floor like an afterthought as the yukata fell open, exposing the redhead to the man in front of him, pale skin flushed from fear. That snapped Kamio out of the terror induced haze as he brought his feet up to slam into the other man's torso, struggling and clawing to get away. Though feet simply hit hard muscle as if kicking a tree trunk and the clawing only seemed to fuel the other's actions, blood sliding down pale skin and dripping to the wooden floor.

It was a losing battle has one rough hand gripped his hip so hard it made him curl up despite being strangled and suspended from the floor. Kamio whimpered as his eye squeezed closed, this was far worse then anything Tachibana could do because at least he consented to that even if he didn't want it. As he hung there panting for breath, he felt that free hand reach up and pull off the eye patch he wore, exposing the gouged out socket. Long calloused fingers pressed against the scarred skin, running along the edges as a malicious chuckle bubbled up from the taller man's throat. Instinctively Kamio's hands released the arm to cover his face, hiding behind his hands and that was what broke him. The first choked sob slipped from his lips, gagging from behind a throat that was partially closed off from the infinitely strong grip of the ash haired man in front of him.

"I think that's more then enough, Akutsu-san," a smooth voice filled the hallway, soft and demanding all at the same time. White-wine colored eyes slipped sideways, eyeing the speaker who was none other then the head bookkeeper for the Atobe clan, Oshitari Yuushi. A folded fan was held in his left hand, setting in the palm of the right as he frowned, long sleeved haori emblazoned with the encircled jagged pine tree icon of the Atobe clan(5).

Akutsu knew what battles to pick and being part of the underworld himself he was quite aware that Oshitari was also a spy and spies for Samurai retainer clans were always ninja. He straightened to his full height and tossed Kamio to the floor at Oshitari's feet. The red head landed with a crack, his head smacking off the hardwood. He curled into a ball, hands hiding his face as he sobbed pathetically into the floor.

Moving from the hallway and back into the room in one stride, Akutsu disappeared pulling the silk curtain closed with a sharp tug. Oshitari walked across the hall, wooden shoes clacking softly against the floorboards and knelt beside the fallen redhead. He slipped the bronze war fan into his sleeve and reached to stroke the red hair gently, frowning.

Kamio flinched away from the touch, trying to turn away. No one touched his eye let alone saw it without the eye patch, he was highly protective of that area of his face. He would have taken the rape over that touch any day, it felt as if his skin was crawling when that soft caress rested on his hair

Oshitari frowned a bit, eyes softening slightly behind the custom made wire rim glasses, made of delicate silver wire by one of the most well known metal workers in the village. Standing, he walked over to the discarded eye patch, picking it up and resuming his kneeling position beside the smaller man. The redhead was lucky he had shown up, considering the only reason he had been here at all was because he wanted to get in some time before his days got busy. Considering the head of the Sanada clan was going to be in town, he was going to have his work cut out for him.

"Here," he said quietly, purring voice not echoing in the hallways at all. He waited for the fallen redhead to claim it, pulling it on and adjusting it over his face. Tears still slipped steadily down and sobs shook the small frame with their force. Oshitari sighed softly, sitting down gracefully and gathering the other into his arms. Kamio resisted for only a moment before he grabbed the haori and clung to the other man, sobbing into the expensive silk.

Leaning back against the hallway wall, Oshitari let the other cry, hand running soothingly over the redheads back and neck. He listened to the quiet movements in the building, the creaks from the ceiling signifying movement above him and the smell of opium that drifted from behind the silk curtain. The man in his arms was warm and he could feel the tears slip over his throat so acutely it was almost like acid. He blinked at the sensation, wondering what about the redhead was setting his nerves on fire. Reaching down he put his hand under the other's chin, tilting it up so he could look at the pale, tear stained face.

He knew him alright, Kamio Akira from the first room on the left at the end of the hallway. The redhead was wrapped up in quite a few gambling rings and was hard as hell to catch, one minute he was there the next he was gone. Oshitari had debated recruiting him for some time, considering speed and resilience were this little auburn haired spitfire's middle names. Not to mention his connections to the biggest gambling ring this side of Edo.

"Are you alright?" the purr resonated from his chest where Kamio's finger's rested, his hands aching from the grip he had on the inner dark blue kimono the other man was wearing beneath the gray haori. One by one his fingers released, before the hand settled back where it had been, palm flat over the other's heart. He blinked when his single cobalt eye met Oshitari's twin pair of deep violet blue, he felt like a butterfly, wings pinned and trapped under glass.

"Now I am…" he said softly, barely finding his voice. If Oshitari hadn't shown up he was sure something far worse would have happened to him. He found himself overly thankful for the dark eyed man, who was being so kind. Kamio wasn't used to this type of treatment…it was nice.

"Shall I escort you back upstairs," Oshitari smiled softly, eyes still staring into the other man's. Such a pretty blue, he thought idly, reaching to push a bit of hair away from the one visible eye. His hand lingered on the cheek, cradling it lightly in his strong yet gentle grip.

Kamio didn't even flinch at the touch but leaned into it, eyes equally locked onto the taller man's. He nodded a bit blankly, waiting for Oshitari to stand before getting to his feet, holding his yukata shut with one hand. Bending over he picked up the belt and retied it, eyes only leaving Oshitari for a moment. The bespectacled man put an arm around Kamio's waist for a bit of added support, walking towards the stairs and depositing his shoes before climbing them.

They reached the top of the stairs and to the incense scented hallway, all the doors were closed, sealed away from the waking world. Kamio paused by his door, tilting his head up to look at Oshitari. The Atobe spy leaned down without preamble and claimed the small redhead's lips, kissing him deeply to take his breath away. Kamio gasped softly, hands grabbing the front of the haori and deepening the kiss as another set settled on his waist. Oshitari pulled him closer hands sliding along the fabric of the loose yukata, feeling the muscle beneath and pulled the redhead against him. It felt as if time had stopped for a moment, leaving them pressed against one another in a passionate kiss. Oshitari leaned back and smiled before turning and walking down the hallway, disappearing into Gakuto's door with only a knock to announce his arrival.

Kamio watched the man disappear, hand coming up to touch his lips briefly, bringing him back down to reality. He couldn't understand what he had just been feeling, why he had acted like that, but he had liked it. Shaking his head he turned to slide the door open and was immediately shocked by the sight, his breath stopping in his throat.

Laying on the floor with blood pooling around his arms and throat was Shinji. The strings of his shamisen had each been carefully removed and wrapped precisely around his tiny wrists, pulled so tight the sharp make-shift garrote cut straight through the skin like butter. The same had been done to his throat, delicate skin broken and bleeding out on the floor.

Kamio rushed over and started picking at the strings, trying to get them away from the flesh so he could wrap the wounds before the pallor in his companion's skin grew deadly. Eventually he managed to untie the strings, throwing them to the side as more blood oozed onto the tatami. Kamio's hysterical mind decided to inform him that Dan was going to be seriously unhappy about having to replace all of those. Nimble fingers grabbed the cotton sheet off the futon, ripping it and wrapping the delicate wrists tight to cut off the blood flow. Adrenaline pumped through him, keeping him concentrating even when he wanted to start screaming in fear for the boy on the floor.

He had hope, he could feel the faint pulse like a moth beating its wings against the inside of a jar. Shifting he knelt by Shinji's head, gently cradling it in his lap and stroking the hair. Kamio's hands were shaking, at a loss for what to do. The breath of the black haired ex-geisha danced across his hand, letting him know that there was still life in Shinji, but did he come soon enough.

Reaching down Kamio gently took one hand, holding it and turning it over in his own. His lower lip trembled a bit, seeing the pads of his roommate's finger's torn and bleeding. Shinji must have played the instrument all night, the haunting melodies of lost love and loneliness and he was so angry that no one noticed when the music had stopped. No one had come to save him not even Kamio.

"I'm so sorry…Shinji.." his voice was choked with fear, wanting so much for the other to be okay. He was praying to anything that would listen that he would open his eyes and look at Kamio. Say a word, anything…just wake up.

Glazed blue eyes fluttered open, pupils large and lusterless, staring up into Kamio's face. Lips parted but no noise came out, instead he just stared. A grin broke through the redhead's misery, shining down on the other like sunshine.

"Oh…thank the gods, oh…" his shaking fingers caressed Shinji's face, pushing limp hair away from the pale visage and for the second time that day the tears came, slipping down his cheeks in joy instead of sorrow. Shinji shifted very slowly, his arms shaking as he put pressure on them but he managed to get upright. Hands reached up to caress Kamio's face and he leaned forward to kiss away the tears, holding the redhead's jaw gently.

"You scared me so bad, Shinji…I'm so sorry I left you here…" and now Kamio took up the mumbling on and on, apologies said in a million ways and none of them good enough in the redhead's eyes. He shouldn't have left Shinji, he had been so rash and stupid, it had almost taken the person that meant the most to him in this world away.

Ibu remained silent and simply crawled into Kamio's lap, resting his head in the crook of Kamio's neck and petting the side of the redhead's face, cool fingers tracing the flushed, tear stained skin. Time passed quietly between them, simple sobs finally petering off and dissipating completely. Kamio finally gathered himself, slipping his arms around Shinji and getting them both over to the futon.

All he wanted to do was sleep right now, the day hadn't went as planned and he had had about enough of being awake and aware. Settling in the small bed he curled on his side, spooning around the slight, fragile man that lay against him. Finger's moved over the make-shift bandages and he hid his face in the back of Shinji's neck, feeling so guilty and pained by the dark stained linens. The smaller man shifted, letting his hands grasp Kamio's, stilling their movement over his arms and holding them tight.

Soon they fell into sleep's arms, looking like yin and yang, fire and ice as they laid curled against each other as the light seeped through the cracks in the blinds.

oooooo

Historical Notes for Chap7:

1.) Spider symbolism: The weaver of fate, the keeper of time. The spider is representative of the wheel of fate, winding the strings of time and forcing the wheel to turn with its fibers. Sign of changes to come and a twist of fate in the near future.

2.) Sanada Clan flag. Yes, the Sanada were actually a samurai Daimyo family. They were represented by a flag with three coins across the top and three across the bottom. They were first a Takeda (another ruling Daimyo, which is basically the head clan of the area) retainer clan and moved on to become a Daimyo.

3.) Dragon symbolism. This is just a little play on the smoking opium, for anyone who knows drug references when someone asks you if you'd like to smoke opium or denotes that they are smoking opium the phrase is "I'm riding the dragon" or "Would you like to ride the dragon?"

4.) Oni are Japanese demons. They are also known as the Japanese boogie men because children are told tales of the Oni to keep them in bed or from being bad. Oni are red/yellow eyes demons with wild hair and snarling visages.

5.) Atobe Clan flag. Yet again another Samurai clan who were also Takeda Retainers. They never quite established Daimyo elite-ness though. Their flag was a jagged pine tree shaped symbol with a thick circle around it.


	8. Interlude

Thanks to everyone who reviews, you know you guys keep my going.

Though most of my thanks goes to my Akira, who has kept me working the storyline for all it's worth. I hope you are all ready because Iplan to have a real indepth, plot filled story and it would be fruitless without her. Much love, Aki and thank you.

Rating and Pairings: R. Oshi/Gaku

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Oshitari slipped into Gakuto's room, his mind clouded with thoughts on the situation he had just involved himself in. It hadn't been precisely what he had expected to happen, usually everything he did was planned to the last second and then executed with such perfection it would make Buddha weep.

Turning he clicked the door shut behind him, just as the courtesan turned his head sharply, eyes cold as ice directed at the intruder. Gakuto was kneeling demurely in front of a water bowl, hair pinned and pulled away from his pretty round face. It looked as if he was preparing to wash up and go to bed, it was after all still relatively early in the morning. Once the redhead saw it was Oshitari the ice melted and he bounced to his feet, transparent white under kimono leaving nothing to the imagination. Not that Mukahi Gakuto was ever one to be modest.

"Yuushi!" he made his way over and wrapped skinny arms around the taller man, cuddling into his chest. "Why are you here so early?"

"Seems a few things have come up that need handling," he shook his head, hands slipping to remove the hair ornaments, setting the red hued locks free to fall around the pale painted face. Sighing, thoughts of the redhead from down the hall swam to the surface of his mind, causing him to frown. Distraction was the last thing he needed right now, though he had to admit it was a very lovely distraction indeed.

"What is it…?" the smaller man trailed off, looking up at Oshitari curiously. There was probably a very good reason the other had shown up. Disengaging he moved to the futon, kneeling down and draping a heavy red kimono with a gold embroidery of a phoenix on the back over his shoulders. Oshitari joined him after a moment, shedding his haori and folding it before laying it on the floor.

"Sanada Genichirou rode into town today," he commented blandly, his features showing he was less then excited about the situation. They had been hoping he'd be killed in the battle, but he always seemed to come back, not that it was much of a surprise. The man was the head of the clan for a reason after all.

"Damn it," Gakuto scowled. "Looks like more time in this hell hole."

"Perhaps, perhaps not, Atobe-sama has informed me he is sick of waiting and wants the execution to be within the week. Before the next time Sanada rides out to war," Oshitari stated gravely.

"Who did he appoint…." The redhead looked at the taller man sidelong, features going flat for a moment.

"Me," he answered, his eyes tracing around the room and finally coming back to settle on the petite man.

Gakuto sat frowning, turning something over in his mouth as he dwelled on the subject. He had been stuck here for almost two years, planted as an internal spy and also for an excuse for Oshitari to be coming to the brothel, considering the bespectacled man had found out Sanada stayed here when he was in town. Partially he was glad that they were finally going to be making a move, but Oshitari being the assassin didn't sit well with him. The chances of one person going up against Sanada was like the concept of trying to win a war with ten people against ten thousand. Not exaggerating in the least either.

"Just you…" the redheaded spy sighed, looking at Oshitari with an even deeper frown.

"Yes, because if you get involved they will know you are a plant and we need you here," he shook his head, taking off his glasses and setting them on his haori, they were useless anyways, only worn for disguise purposes. "And spit those out."

The other man gave the taller a sour look before turning his head and spitting a mouthful of Fukumi Bari(1) to the floor in rapid succession. The tiny needles hammered into the tatami and stuck straight up from the force with which they had been imbedded. Gakuto ran his tongue over his painted lips, eyes going to half-mast as he smiled at his lover.

"Better, Yuushi-chan?" he sing-songed, smiling insufferably.

"Why don't you put that amazing mouth to some use other then speaking," he countered, a biting smile curving over his lips. Those cold eyes were matched by the equally icy set of his significant other, dark eyes despite their light color; eyes of those who had seen too much.

Gakuto shrugged the kimono off his shoulders and crawled over, eyes never leaving Oshitari's. Deft hands began working on the hakama, pulling the ties free and pushing the poker faced ninja onto his back to remove them completely. The massive amount of fabric was discarded to the side, leaving him with a dark blue kimono and white under kimono, both easily parted so that the redhead could begin teasing, talented kisses down the other man's chest.

Oshitari let his head fall back, staring up at the ceiling and trying to gather his scattered thoughts. Lips moved down his stomach, tongue tracing along the hipbones and teasing them with teeth. His mind drifted, one redhead replacing another as he focused on the feeling instead of the face.

Kamio Akira could be an asset at this point, he could move in and out of the brothel freely already. The thing was, he hadn't kept enough tabs on him to not be sure he wasn't part of the yakuza, so that meant he was going to have to get close enough to him to check for the tattoos. His eyes fluttered as that heat engulfed him, tongue capable of so many things lapping and throat working him. Somehow it was easier to concentrate while he was being pleasured, helped him focus his mind.

Fingers slid into those pixie cut strands, guiding the head slightly for more pleasure. Blue eyes the color of the deepest parts of the ocean blinked closed, blocking off the rising heat.

The only way to get that close to the redhead, was going to be to buy him. This meant finding some time Tachibana wasn't planning on having him. Now who to ask that it wouldn't sound like a suspicious inquiry, which was the real tricky part of this whole ordeal. His thoughts faded as his hips jerked against the persistent mouth, fingers clenching the red hair tight for a moment as he released. Thought and pleasure, mixed and melded to find the answer, as orgasm whited out his mind, clearing the slate before the solution came.

He'd just have to talk with Sengoku Kiyosumi, master of the gambling rings that ran through out the area. The 'demon' or so he was known, considering his orange hair and piercing oceanic eyes, was the hub of most knowledge running through the village. Not to mention yakuza himself. Who better to ask about such matters then a neutral party.

Gakuto moved to nuzzle the other's neck, pressing up against Oshitari's chest and curling that small elegant body against the much stronger one. There was a new wind blowing, things were going to change and quickly. Oshitari didn't need his sharp senses and uncanny perception to figure that out.

Settling lazily onto the futon, he let his companion drift off as he considered what he could do to pay off Lucky Sengoku and still stay in the shadows where he belonged. Staring up at the ceiling boards, he smirked. Perhaps the changes would be in his favor if he could execute this all properly and maybe there would be a prize in it for himself.

Historical Notes: 

1. Fukami Bari – Technical name for the mouth needles ninja's used to spray into people's eyes if they got too close to their face. Sometimes they were also used with _Mitsubishu_ which were blowguns that they could shoot the needles out at a distance. Though they were a better up close weapon.


	9. Memories in the Fire

**Artist Note**: _It's been awhile hasn't it? I don't know what made me write this again. Maybe the sudden influx of favorites, maybe the art drawn lovingly by pratz85 or perhaps just the need to fulfill a two-year promise that I broke._

_My apologies for how long it's been, since I did leave so many people hanging and I might leave you all hanging again. I have a busy life, but I hope that maybe I can start this again._

_Much love to you all and Thank You._

**Pairings**: hints of Aku/Sen, Sana/Yuki.

**Rating:** PG-13 for implications of violence, non-con and other such things.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

Day broke but the suns rays never pierced through the dark gray cloud covering. Rain fell from the heavens, flooding the river beneath the bridge and kicking up the smell of mud and grass. The sakura petals turned a deep rose as the water absorbed into them, falling to the ground and being consumed by the black silt, the sweet purity being devoured by the dark.

Though somewhere fires burned, hot and heavy and memories resurfaced as those who lived in the night took to their beds to sleep away the daylight and wait for the true darkness to fall again.

Oooooooooo

Flames licked around the form, climbing up the beams and setting the thin walls on fire. Black bits of rice paper and ash fluttered to the floor, clogging the air and making it impossible to breath. Tiny lungs seized and spasmed as tears streaked down blackened cheeks leaving clear streaks only to be replaced by more soot. The heat was unbearable and the skin burned even though the fire had not touched the small figure yet.

A few feet away laid the form of his mother, the fire eating the body slowly, turning it to blackened bone and charred skin. The blaze was taking away all the evidence of rape and murder. Though green eyes would never forget, even as the fire was surrounding him those orbs couldn't tear away from the disappearing form of his Kaa-san (1). He stared unblinking despite the intensity of the orange and red inferno, that was until those flames finally blocked his view and consumed the body into it. The child closed his eyes, tiny hands covering his face as he cried.

Suddenly arms wrapped around him, jerking him against a stronger body and the air was suddenly cool, caressing over burned skin as it rushed past him. The wind might sooth the skin but the mind was already scarred, damaged from the sight of loved ones dying and everything he knew being destroyed. Eyes opened to watch the burning village disappear, the only sound he could hear was the crunch of grass as he was carried away from the blaze. Soon he crashed into the bushes, the sounds of the Ronin (2) that had demolished his village coming closer. The child could feel a shriek of fear bubbling up in his throat, the recollection of those hellish marauders hands on him again, pushing away his yukata, taking away what made him pure… A hand slapped over his mouth and his savior came into view, though all he could focus on was a pair of gold eyes, begging him to be silent so they wouldn't be found. Those eyes were child's eyes, scared and desperate as his own were.

Hooves thundered past and laughter…laughter…laughter.

Ooooooooooo

Gasping Sengoku Kiyosumi shot awake, flinging the simple cotton blanket to the side. His green eyes were wide and unseeing for a moment, cold sweat running down his spine and making him shudder. The flames still burned behind his eyes and he could still hear the laughing of the Ronin and the pounding of the hooves as they made their way into the next town…the next bonfire.

A hand fell on his lower back, jerking him sharply out of his reverie. The redhead recoiled a bit, head whipping to the side to see the person touching him. Yellow eyes looked at him lazily, not surprised by the reaction but not removing his hand either. Sengoku's breath sighed out, still coming out in gentle pants from the fear that had welled up inside him from the dream.

After a moment of collecting himself, Sengoku turned to curl against the larger form, head tucking underneath the other's chin. The arms tightened around him, protective as they had been for years. When not in the brothel Akutsu was guarding the redhead as he made his rounds in the gambling rings that popped up throughout the town. Though his guard job didn't end there, when the nightmares came he was there to chase them away, right there by Sengoku's side like he'd always been…since the day the Yamabuki village had been burned to the ground. The village was but a memory that only they held as they were the last survivors. He was quite certain that the Ronin that had defiled their home didn't recall a second of what they had done and didn't care to remember.

"Someone's coming…" the voice was quiet, spoken into the white haired demon's collarbone and interrupting the murderous thoughts that had surfaced in Akutsu's mind at the memory of those traveling samurai. The redhead could just feel it, something was coming and he wasn't sure if it was good or bad. Despite it all, he had a date tonight. Tall, dark and crafty, couldn't keep him waiting even if the nightmare still lingered on the edges of his consciousness. After a moment he stood, pushing off of Akutsu's chest and stretching. The mask slipped into place, discarding the sudden innocent fear brought on by the nightmare and replacing it with a dark smirk and secretive eyes. Sengoku always had a smile, especially when he was taking your money.

"You going to the brothel?" he asked casually, looking down as Akutsu rose from the futon and smoothed out his yukata. Long corded muscles tightened as he mimicked the redhead's stretch, cracking his neck and looking over at Lucky with those odd yellow eyes, pupils small. It was enough of an answer for Sengoku, being that Akutsu never said much of anything as it were. "Alright, see you later."

They parted ways, Sengoku moving towards the teahouse, taking the back alleys and ignoring the feeling of something descending.

Ooooooooooooooooooo

Over the bridge the sound of horse hooves echoed over the flooding waters that roared beneath. The steeds stepped heavily, their baggage weighing that much more as water was absorbed into leather and cloth. Everything was dismal and gray except for the bright yellow banners that flew from the rider's backs, fluttering against the wind, the six-coin mark being brandished by the gods.

Outside the villagers gathered, knowing that the warriors were arriving they prepared to greet the lords that fought for their land. Even though the rain fell, everyone was there, standing on the porches and kneeling in the presence of one of the most powerful Warlords under the command of the Emperor.

From the Apothecary Inui knelt in the doorway, watching as the warhorses passed by. Everyone knew Sanada, even if his Oni themed faceplate was still drawn down, his bull horned helmet easily standing out amongst the other two that rode with him. The guards were his closest generals, Bunta Marui and Jackal Kuwahara. The heavens soaked them, though they didn't seem to notice, water ran down the metal faceplates and wooden lacquer sword sheaths like the tears of those that had been slaughtered.

Every eye was on them, even if the peoples heads were bowed to the ground they were raised immediately after to gaze at their backs. As they passed the silk shop, Tezuka and Fuji were both standing before they knelt in the presence of the warriors. However, they were not seen, since Sanada's head was tilted upwards, looking towards the slotted window. Delicate fingers peeked from beneath one of the wooden slots, snow white in comparison to the black sky. The samurai flipped up his mask, stoic features as frozen as ever as he gazed upwards, rain falling against the tan skinned face and slithering along the sharp cheekbones and chiseled jaw line. The fingers retracted after a moment, leaving nothing but a memory. Though that was all Sanada needed for now, just a glimpse of the one whom he fought for so he could ride on to the Inn where he would be staying.

Nodding his head the faceplate clicked back down, hiding him from the outside world as he continued to the Inn, intent on cleaning up and waiting for nightfall when he could visit the brothel and the beautiful courtesan within.

In the entire crowded street there was a dark form that was missed, hiding in the shadows, nothing but deep blue eyes showing. A smirk curled underneath the black ninja mask, watching the samurai group move on and disappear towards the stables at the Inn. This was going to be quite the information for his employer, but it would have to wait until nightfall, he had an appointment to make after all. Being that he was always fashionably late, he took his time as he sauntered down the alley, shedding the black outfit slowly, to reveal the discreet kimono beneath. With a flick of the wrist he set the spectacles on his nose, laying the outfit under a bush in the woods as he made his way to the teahouse, keeping out of the main streets…just in case.

**Notes**:

Kaa-san: Mother in Japanese. I'm sure most of you know that, but I also know how much I hate random Japanese and people assuming I know it.

Ronin: Renegade samurai who have lost their leader. Usually they run amok and avenge their leaders by destroying whatever they possibly can before destroying themselves.


End file.
